so comes snow after fire
by AVeryBlueGirl
Summary: What's a spy to do when the war is over and she has lost her purpose in life? Especially when she never expected to survive. Harry's aunt, Civia Potter - the murderer of Albus Dumbledore, a "traitor" to the Order, and ultimately a spy - wakes in the hospital wing after the Battle of Hogwarts, redeemed and pardoned, with Severus at her side in a new era. SS/OFC, SSOC, Post DH
1. Chapter 1

**"So comes snow after fire, and even dragons have their endings." - J.R.R. Tolkien**

What's a spy to do when the war is over and she has lost her purpose in life? Especially when she never even expected to survive the war. Harry's aunt Civia Potter - the murderer of Albus Dumbledore, a traitor to the Order, and ultimately a spy - wakes in the hospital wing after the Battle of Hogwarts, redeemed and pardoned, with her dearest friend and confidant at her side, in a new era.

 **Chapter 1**

 **September 1975**

The knock echoed loudly in the Headmaster's Office.

"Come in," Albus Dumbledore called curiously.

A small sixth year entered, dark haired and olive skinned.

"Professor," she nodded respectfully.

"Miss Potter," the Headmaster returned. "Please sit. May I offer you a lemon drop?"

The girl sat down quickly, reserved in her movements and calm in her expression. "No thank you, Professor."

"What brings you here tonight, Miss Potter?"

Sixteen year old Civia Potter met his eyes calmly. "I wish to inform you that tonight I have joined the ranks of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters."

The Headmaster's eyebrows furrowed in consternation. "I'm sorry?" He must have misheard—

"I am a Death Eater, Professor Dumbledore," she rephrased it, perfectly at peace as she rolled up her left sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark, stark upon her skin.

"How did this happen?"

"Last year I seduced Lucius Malfoy," she replied slowly, knowing very well that he knew the now-graduated young wizard was engaged to Narcissa Black. "He introduced me to the Dark Lord, who asked me to take on an assignment."

His eyebrows raised slightly. "An assignment?"

"To infiltrate your Order of the Phoenix and spy upon you and your fellows," she explained. "I accepted and took the Dark Mark tonight."

For a long moment, the Headmaster had nothing to say, staring at the young woman before him, calculating and trying to create a plan. "You wish instead to spy for the Order."

"On one condition," the Ravenclaw prefect replied, cool as a glacier. "No one in the Order must know. None save you, Professor. Tell anyone and I will never again help you."

"And in return for your privacy, you believe you can be of use against Lord Voldemort?"

Civia met his eyes flatly. "You recall the anonymous notes you have been receiving for the past two years, yes?"

Ah yes. The unsigned notes owled to him at odd hours, noting students who were interested in joining or who had already joined the ranks of Voldemort's followers.

So it was Civia Potter who sent them.

Interesting. Most interesting…

 **June 1998**

When Civia woke, it was to a pounding head and dry mouth. Her neck and the junction of her right shoulder were strangely numb, but everything else ached slightly, and she let out a groan.

"Civia!" a voice cried from beside her, concerned.

She struggled against her dry eyelids to open them. Not that she needed to see to recognize the voice.

"Sev-rus," she croaked, eyes finally open.

The Potions Master was at her side, pouring a glass of water before she could even ask. "Lie still," he chided her as she tried, and failed, to sit up. She settled for gratefully gulping down the cool water before coughing slightly as it went down wrong.

"Slowly," he again chided.

She rolled her dry eyes that are slowly becoming more tolerable. She made eye contact, and held his gaze as she wondered, What happened?

Her throat ached now, the numbness now fading and pain taking its place.

In lieu of a verbal response, he pushed forward a series of images to her mind.

 _—battle, savage outright war—in the once comforting halls of her beloved Hogwarts—blood and bodies and body parts littering the stone floors, as spells fly and cries are heard amidst the shouts—_

 _—searching, searching the battlefield, cutting down Death Eaters and defending students whenever possible—_

 _—finally spotting Civia, amidst the chaos, facing down the Dark Lord himself—the Longbottom boy behind her, burnt Sorting Hat in one hand, the Sword of Gryffindor in the other—her wand drawn and trained upon her former master, as she shouts her loyalties for all to hear, vowing to kill him for murdering her nephew—_

 _—the duel began then, with spell after spell, curse after curse flying between the two, as bystanders fight their own battles and try not to get hit by stray spells—Death Eaters falling all around, students and Order members victorious, slowly overwhelming the Dark Lord's forces—_

 _—suddenly, from nowhere, the snake, that damned creature—Nagini throwing herself at Civia, fangs bared before they sank into her neck and shoulder, sending the witch to the ground—_

 _—Severus shouting, shoving people aside in his haste to reach her—_

 _—seeing the snake wrapping around the witch, squeezing and choking her even as it dug its fangs in deeper into her flesh as she screamed and writhed—_

 _—before he could reach her, the Longbottom boy jumps in, hacking at the snake with the Sword of Gryffindor, until its blasted head was separated from its damned neck—_

She jerked away physically with the effort to stop the barrage of images, suddenly nauseated.

"I think it's better that I don't remember," she croaked, or tries to.

She had never been particularly fond of her voice. A little too low to be attractive, too high to be properly sensuous. But it was her voice, hers, her own.

What was left of it is in ruins.

One hand flew to cover her mouth, only to slide lower to her throat, where she felt the new knotted ridges of scar tissue.

There were some scars even magic and potions couldn't fix. These were some of them, apparently.

Severus grabbed her hand, shaking his head. "You'll recover. You need time."

How long has it been? She thought to him with a mastered combination of legilimency and occlumency.

"About a month since the battle," the Potions Master replied slowly. "We had trouble healing you. I had to create an antivenin and then we had to repair the physical damage to your neck and throat, as well as your leg…" he paused here, strangely hesitant, which does not suit him at all.

What about my leg? She asked slowly.

He sighed, sitting down carefully. "Nagini was constricting you, as well as trying to kill you with her bite. She broke a couple of your ribs and your left femur. We couldn't heal the latter correctly—Poppy said something about you breaking it too many times for it to fully heal. I believe you will need a cane," he added, tone uncharacteristically gentle.

She snorted. "If I can defy the Dark L—Voldemort and nearly get killed by Nagini, and only walk away with a limp, I think I'm okay with that," she forced herself to croak out in her ruined voice. "I'll survive…yes?"

"Yes," her friend nodded. "And you'll be pleased to hear that your nephew survived as well."

"I had wondered," Civia murmured lowly. "I hoped…but I was afraid to ask. Who did we lose?"

Quietly, Severus began to list off names. Many of them were too young, too young to have even been there, too young to suffer such a fate… But that is the nature of war, she thought to herself, Taking the best of us too soon.

She yawned abruptly, and it caught her off-guard. Severus chuckled lowly at the expression upon her face.

Shut up, she thought to him pointedly. Shouldn't you be fetching Poppy to examine and annoy me with all her apologies?

"Of course, how could I forget?" he asked, and slipped away to do just that.

Civia was asleep again before they return.

Tom Riddle was dead. This time, there was no uncertainty, no doubt.

She read about it in The Daily Prophet, how Harry so bravely sacrificed himself, only to come out alive because of Lily's sacrifice and some apparent loophole.

Most of her days were long and lonely, though Severus tried to visit whenever he had a spare moment between helping Poppy heal those still recovering and helping the other Heads of House coordinate the repair of the castle.

Harry stopped by, a week after she woke. It was the first time she's seen him outside of battle in months. Since she killed Albus, in fact.

"Aunt Civia," he greeted quietly, when he realized she was awake.

"Hello, Harry," she returned quietly, voice no longer a croak but not yet what it once was.

Neither knew how to react, not quite yet. It had been a year, but the loss of Albus was still keenly felt, and she feared they would never repair that rift in their relationship.

"Sn—Professor Snape said you don't really remember the battle," he said.

She had come to recollect certain moments, mostly running and dueling and searching for Severus amidst all that madness. Nagini and the Dark Lord visit in her nightmares, if she's honest, but she doesn't remember that last bit very much at all.

"No, I don't," she replied, for simplicity's sake. "Severus tells me I gave you some of my memories during battle."

"Yes, I—I watched them, and I did what I had to do," the boy replied, and for a moment, she remembered how very young he is, or was supposed to be. He hardly seemed seventeen anymore, but he had time to heal and fix that, at least. Youths were resilient, after all. "I—I want to thank you."

"I—excuse me?" The croak returned momentarily, with a spike of pain, before she could control it. "I thought—well. I thought you'd hate me, even though you know the truth now."

"Civia, you're a hero!" he exclaimed. "You spied for all those years, doing what Dumbledore said, helping the Order even though they didn't like you—you saved so many people, and you helped us defeat Voldemort! How could I hate you?"

"I killed Albus," she snapped harshly. "Or have you forgotten?"

He flinched a bit, but sighed. "You only did that because he made you."

"I let the Carrows torture students," she snapped again.

"Again, because you had to," he shrugged. "You protected them when you could."

"I don't—Harry, you have to understand…" she fumbled for words, unsure of what she could possibly say.

To this point, she had thought he had been avoiding her, hating her, no matter how she had helped him.

"I sent you to your death."

The words fell from her lips before she can stop herself.

He grinned at that, however. "Not exactly. I'm still here, aren't I?"

"The Boy Who Lived, as ever," she muttered and snorted. Of course he had lived.

Not that she wasn't pleased that her nephew is alive. She was quite relieved, honestly. The thought of her only family dying…it was not pleasant. She could not protect James and Lily, so she had vowed to protect her nephew as best as she could. She had tried, too, but in the end, it came down to a choice between protecting him and ending this war.

Was she a bad person for seemingly sending a boy to his death, just to end the war? Was it justified?

Sighing, she tossed the ruminations aside. She wasn't a philosopher, she never had been. She'll leave that for others to decide. For now…

"I'm glad you lived," she said. "James and Lily would be proud of you, Harry. They really would."

He smiled. "Thanks Civia…I'll let you rest now—but I'll be back, I promise!" he grinned, and for a moment, it was a glimpse of the youthful cheer behind the grim man that circumstance had made of the boy.

Moments after he left, Severus returned, having apparently passed the boy in the aisle outside her little curtained "room" within the crowded hospital wing.

"What did the boy wonder want?"

"He…thanked me."

"Ah yes, he's been most vocal about our innocence," the Potions Master mused. "He also gave me these to return to you."

In his hand, he offered the vial of memories.

"He said that only Minerva and Kingsley saw them, though many others know of their existence. He thought you'd appreciate the privacy; I thanked him for it."

"Thank you," she murmured gratefully, accepting the vial in shaky hands.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **September 1969**

When a younger Minerva McGonagall once called out "Civia Potter!", the Sorting Hat held aloft in her hand, a proud young girl broke away from the huddled group of nervous eleven year olds and sat down upon the stool, her back straight and chin high.

"Well, well, well," the hat seemed to whisper in her ear. "You're as Slytherin as they come, dearie—SLYTH—"

"No."

The hat fell silent mid-word.

"I will be in Ravenclaw," she whispered back.

"And why would you be there?"

She suppressed a snort. "Slytherin is so obvious, don't you think? A true Slytherin would look past the obvious. I'd be so much more well suited to Ravenclaw, in my family and peers' eyes. One can get away with so much more in Ravenclaw, away from the suspicion that follows Slytherin."

The hat chuckled. "My little Slytherin in disguise you shall be, then, Miss Potter. RAVENCLAW."

When the Headmaster noticed the girl debating with the hat, he should have known then to watch the girl, that she would change the world.

* * *

 **July 1998**

When Severus wasn't at Civia's bedside, he was with Minerva and Filius and Pomona, working to repair the castle.

Others assisted, of course, but the four Heads of House teamed up to lead the efforts to rebuild. With Hogwarts' Headmistress in the hospital wing, still recovering, Minerva had stepped up to lead them, and it made Severus wonder if anyone has told Civia that she was still Headmistress.

 _The witch probably thinks now that the war's over, Minerva has taken over…_ he mused. He should probably correct that notion…

For now, he and Potter were Civia's lone visitors. No one else had the balls to visit the "traitor" whom they had treated so poorly, no matter whether or not they were supposed to.

Not even Minerva had summoned up the courage to visit.

Civia had not said anything about her lack of visitors, but Severus hadn't been her handler for three years now for nothing. He could read the Potions Mistress rather well. She was, after all, his—well—his friend. She likely felt forgotten or hated—as well as useless.

They had long ago talked several times about plans after the war's end, should they live. When he'd asked the first time, she had barked out a harsh laugh. "As if I'll survive to see the war's end."

"Hypothetically, then," he had rolled his eyes.

"Hypothetically?" she had mused. "I suppose I'll be thrown away in Azkaban for murder and various other crimes."

The witch was likely waiting to be arrested, but didn't want to say anything for fear of testing her luck.

He confronted Minerva and Kingsley about it a week after she woke up.

"Is she going to be arrested?" he asked, there in Minerva's office with the Head of Gryffindor and the new Minister of Magic.

"Who?" Kingsley sputtered. "You mean Civia?"

"No, Bellatrix—yes, Civia, you fool of a Minister!" the Potions Master spat. "Is she going to be arrested?"

Kingsley's brow furrowed. "Of course not. Harry showed us the memories that she gave him during the battle. It proves her innocence. You know as well as I that memories can't lie."

That was not exactly true—they could be manipulated, Severus knew from experience, but he wasn't going to press the issue.

"Does she know that you intend to pardon her?" he asked instead.

"…does she?" the Minister repeated. "I thought you'd told her."

"I couldn't very well tell her something I wasn't sure of," he snapped. "She's been lying in the hospital wing alone save for myself and once her nephew—she's sitting there waiting to be arrested, in her mind! Did it never occur to you that it might be important to visit and share that tidbit of news?"

Both Kingsley and Minerva frowned, appropriately guilty and ashamed of their avoidance of the Headmistress.

"She thinks herself a pariah still," he said lowly. "And your behavior has done nothing to dissuade her from that notion!"

He knew he'd said too much when Kingsley smiled slightly. "Severus, you really care for the girl, don't you?"

If his self-control were any weaker, he might have flushed at the accusation. As it is, he merely raised an eyebrow. "Don't be a fool, Minister. Of course I do. She is my closest and dearest friend, my only confidant throughout this hell of a war. I dare say she would say the same of me."

"Yes, I would."

The trio turned to find the subject of their conversation in the doorway, leaning heavily against the doorframe.

"You shouldn't have left the hospital wing," he scolded instantly. "Especially not dressed as you are."

As it was, she was wearing a thin cotton nightgown, the bandages about her neck on clear display for all to see.

Her chin tilted up at his chastisement, defiant as a Gryffindor, and she raised an eyebrow at him, challenging.

"How did you know where to find us?" he asked.

"Harry left the Marauders' Map with me in the hospital wing yesterday. I saw you on your way here and so I thought I'd join you."

Her voice had yet to recover, but it was miles better than what it was when she woke up. Still, it saddened him to notice the rasp that had taken over her melodic tone.

The Potions Master sighed. Damn that boy.

"Besides, when you left, you were thinking rather loudly, Severus," she added, lips twitching upward in amusement.

Of course he had been.

Again, he sighed, aggravated with Civia and her nephew, but mostly with himself.

His gaze was drawn back to her, however, when a shiver travelled through her body, and he realizes how late it was, and how cold she must be.

Minerva and Kingsley's eyebrows rose when the feared Potions Master removed his cloak and draped it around the injured witch. He took some pleasure from the utter shock on their faces when Civia accepted the cloak gratefully and murmured a thank you.

"Now, Minister, I believe you have something to tell the Headmistress?" he intoned smugly.

Kingsley stumbled for a moment, but recovered enough to inform her of his pardon that he has enacted.

She thanked him, shocked as only Severus can perceive, but grateful.

Minerva cleared her throat, shamefaced. "Civia…I can't begin to apologize for my treatment of you—"

The Headmistress shook her head. "You reacted appropriately, just as Albus would have wanted it. Anything less would have been suspicious, you know."

"It doesn't mean my behavior was acceptable," Minerva insisted. "We should have known, should have suspected—"

Civia sighed, waving a hand to interrupt. "That's just it, though—Albus didn't want you to know. Yes, I might have acted upon his orders, but it doesn't change the fact that I killed him, and I was for all you knew a traitor. I knew what would happen, and I accepted it."

The Transfiguration Mistress's face crumpled in heartache for her former pupil. "Oh my dear," she sighed and swept the younger witch into a hug.

Civia peered at Severus over Minerva's shoulder, baffled at her affection, and Severus could only shrug with a small smile.

When Minerva released her, Civia smiled faintly to her, still confused at the older woman's easy acceptance of Civia's loyalties. "Harry told me that he showed you both my memories. I hope you'll keep the details to yourself?" she requested quietly.

"Of course," the Minister replied. "Though some details will be released, so that people understand your loyalties, Headmistress…"

Civia nodded, and Severus could see the exhaustion in her face. "Thank you both. Minerva, if you could visit me tomorrow, I'd be happy to officially resign as Headmistress and cede the position rightfully to you."

"Are you sure?" the Transfiguration Mistress seemed confused. "I thought you'd be continuing on…especially now that your name has been cleared—"

The younger witch laughed, the sound rough and harsh because of her injury. "After the year I've had, I'd much rather go back to just teaching Potions."

Minerva nodded. "Then I will see you tomorrow."

"Excellent," Civia replied calmly. "Good night, Minerva, Kingsley. Then, Severus, if you'll help me back to the hospital wing?"

Severus offered his arm, and was unsurprised when she accepted it and leaned heavily upon him as they walked through the dark partially repaired halls.

"I meant what I said, Severus," she murmured quietly. "You are my best friend, my confidant, and I would not be here, were it not for you."

He allowed a small, genuine smile to curl his lips. "I know, and I feel much the same, Civia."

She smiled up to him, pale and tired and exhausted, but still lovely and vibrant as ever. "Good."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 **July 1995**

"What do you mean, Snape was found out?" Moody growled.

Albus sighed. "Precisely what I said, Alastor. Severus has been discovered as a spy. Another reported it to me, likely saving his life, had Severus heeded his summons."

The Order was quiet in the dining room of Grimmauld Place, which looked more like a war council room presently.

Severus could feel the eyes upon him, but his gaze was steadily set upon the Headmaster.

"What do we do now?" asked Arthur Weasley. "Surely there are others, yes?"

Nodding, Albus replied, "Yes, there are other spies in my employ. Some in the Death Eaters themselves, others on the fringes of their businesses, others mere witnesses and eavesdroppers. But yes, there are others, Arthur."

"You've got other Death Eaters in your pocket—and you haven't told us?" Moody nearly shouted.

"Alastor, please," the Headmaster said, calm and unruffled as ever. "Should their identities become important or relevant, you will know. For now, I merely ask you to trust me."

The former Auror was clearly not satisfied with this answer, but held his tongue nevertheless. Severus was sure they would hear more about this later in the Inner Circle's meeting.

"They are trustworthy, though?"

Severus turned to the source of the words. Civia, a small witch beside Lupin, olive-skinned and dark haired, had spoken, now looking shy and surprised that she had spoken aloud.

"Again, I ask you to trust me. Their insight and knowledge have saved lives before. I trust them."

The witch nodded slowly. "I trust you, Albus. That is enough for me."

"Good. Now, if we can proceed…"

The meeting concluded two hours later.

It took too long for Severus to emerge from the kitchen and escape his fellow witches and wizards, who seemed quite happy to mingle and chat about frivolities. Albus and Minerva had escaped quickly, already gone back to Hogwarts.

By the time the Potions Master managed to reach the entrance hall, Civia was the only other person there as she walked in front of him. Heading to the door, it surprised him when she let out a barely-audible hiss and grasped her left forearm.

It was a motion that Severus recognized with cold certainty. Immediately, he snatched the woman's arm.

"Severus, what are you—"

He shoved her robe sleeves up to reveal the Dark Mark raised and moving upon her olive skin.

The Potions Master's eyes were alight with fury and hatred as he glared down to the witch. "To the Hogwarts, _now_ ," he hissed, and nearly dragged the witch outside Number Twelve Grimmauld Place to apparate away.

Civia seemed to realize his intent and walked along obediently beside him towards the castle. Not for a second did he release his iron grip upon her wrist.

Finally, they reached the statue guarding the entrance to Albus' office and Severus hissed out the password before pulling the witch into the office.

"Severus?" the Headmaster looked up from his desk in surprise, before his eyes widened as he saw the Potions Master bringing in the witch. "What on earth—"

Severus tossed the woman to the floor between them, hatred curling his lip as he glared down to her. "She's a spy, Albus—she's got the Dark Mark!"

Righting herself and brushing dust from her robes, the witch glared back to him before turning to the Headmaster. "Albus, please—it's time for an Obliviate, don't you think?"

Albus sighed. "Both of you, calm down and have a seat."

Slowly, the two sat down, glaring all the while.

"Severus," the Headmaster began slowly. "Civia here is my spy in the Death Eaters. She has been for a number of years, in fact."

"Told him before I was even marked," the witch adds coldly.

His eyes narrowed. "If you're a Death Eater, why have I never met nor heard of you in the Dark Lord's ranks?" he demanded.

"Oh please, Snape," she sneered. "As if the Dark Lord is foolish enough to allow his spies to intermingle. Unlike you, no one knows of my identity outside his Inner Circle. He has been careful to ensure his spy is kept secret, even amongst his followers."

Severus paused, mind whirling as he came to several realizations. "You were the one who told him I was a spy."

The witch tilted her head in acknowledgement. "It was necessary."

" _Necessary_?"

"Surely I don't need to explain how precarious a position I'm in."

He turned to Albus. "How could you allow her to do this?" he spat, before leaning back as he was struck again by a realization. "You didn't…"

For a moment, Albus truly looked his age, ancient and weary. "My dear boy…I could not stop her."

So she had not told Albus about her plans before enacting them.

A wild card then. Unpredictable. Disobedient. Independent. Impulsive.

The worst possible qualities to be found in a spy.

And really—this chit, a spy? Quiet, reckless, innocent, secretive. Cowardly, too. She'd fold like a house of cards the moment she was put under true pressure, or found herself subject to the Cruciatus.

But…another part of him, separate from the fury…another part of him felt distinct regret. Hadn't this been why he had practically been the Order's Spymaster? Using the least number of people possible to minimize suffering. Putting himself in harm's way to protect others from having to undergo the same torment for less information.

"You old fool," he found himself growling. "Put a stop to this!"

The Headmaster nearly crumpled, looking older than the Potions Master had ever seen. "My dear boy," he repeated, voice soft in anguish. "I could not stop her."

Severus stared at Dumbledore in bewilderment, before turning to the woman beside him.

But there was a difference to her now. The emotion was wiped cleanly from her face, leaving only a certain coolness as she met his glare calmly. Her back was straighter, her posture impeccable, and a haughtiness to the tilt of her head. She looked as regal and calm as any pureblood woman was supposed to look.

He glanced between the witch and Albus.

"So this is how it must be?" Severus asked, knowing the answer.

"Yes," the witch replied coolly.

And Albus looked at his Potions Master, saddened and—for a moment—helpless against the will of the woman before them. "I'm afraid so, Severus."

Slowly, the younger wizard nodded, understanding that he too was helpless against Civia's will presently.

"If I may ask a favor, though," Albus added hesitantly. "Perhaps…you two could collaborate? Work together? Severus could support you, Civia, offer assistance and insight."

She snorted. "I hardly think Snape would work with me willingly."

The Potions Master glared, before turning to Albus. "If she can bear my assistance, I am willing to offer it."

He knew what it was like to be a spy, what it meant to be alone—which by their very nature were the same.

"Good," the Headmaster said, grateful again for his Potions Master's loyalty. "Civia will be staying in Hogwarts indefinitely, under the guise of research purposes. I suggest you two work out an arrangement."

The two left the Headmaster's office together, and Severus watched the witch curiously as she led the way.

"Good evening, Severus," she said coolly to him with a nod, turning to depart.

"Miss—Civia, I suppose," he corrected himself quietly. "Should you require assistance at any time—"

She turned, a whirl of sapphire robes. "I don't need your _pity_ , Snape. I have been spying longer than you ever did. I don't need assistance and I don't need _you!_ "

His eyebrows rose. "I am merely offering help as the Headmaster implied I should."

Civia snorted. "We are not a team, Snape. We are not partners. We are not friends. We are _allies_ in this war. That is all. Goodnight."

With that, she turned and was gone.

Leaving Severus Snape to wonder what exactly had just occurred.

* * *

 **August 1998**

When she was finally released from Poppy's care, she was surprised by friends and colleagues and students, who all greet her in the newly repaired Great Hall with cheers.

"Severus?" she murmured lowly to the wizard at her side. "You knew about this, didn't you?" she accused.

"I'll never tell," he replied vaguely, which is enough of a confirmation for her.

Soon she is swarmed by well-wishers and apologists, all wanting her forgiveness and to hear about her part in the war. The former she gives freely, the latter she withholds.

There is cake, courtesy of the house elves who were so happy to hear about their former mistress's recovery, and Civia helps herself to the sweet happily.

Just as Severus had predicted, she now requires a cane, which is fine with her; it's a small price to pay for the defeat of the wizard formerly known as Tom Riddle.

As it is, she can't stand the looks she's not getting. The ones of awe and some residual fear, well, she rather expected. It's the ones of pity, the covert aborted glances at her neck or her cane, that bother her, as if she has been reduced to her injuries rather than her accomplishments.

Still, she tries to enjoy this little celebration.

Her colleagues, fellow Order members, and several students are there, all clamoring for her attention, to lavish praise, to apologize profusely, to admit respect, to thank her. It's overwhelming, really. She had become a pariah in the past year, after killing Albus—the most hated Headmistress of Hogwarts ever, now becoming one of the most beloved, if this gathering is any indication.

She had become so used to being completely alone, without anyone save Severus, for so long, that now, this…it easily overwhelms her and after greeting each guest, she excuses herself and finds herself in her chambers.

 _Her chambers_. More like _their_ chambers.

In the last year, the chambers for the Headmistress had housed both the spy and her handler, as he was supposedly in hiding (and what better place than in plain sight, really). But that had been no great trial or labor, really, she mused, as she entered the living room.

After all, they had been cohabiting for two years before that.

It had begun in Harry's fifth year, when Civia was placed in Hogwarts as a Researcher in Residence to the public, a member of the Order to said organization, and a spy as far as the Dark Lord knew.

She had just outed Severus as a spy to Voldemort, without Albus' permission, and had saved the Potions Master much pain and misfortune, not that he had thanked her for it, once he'd found out she was a spy. It was soon thereafter that Albus had proposed that Severus act as her handler, a sort of Spy Master for the Order. Upon their agreement, he had moved Civia into adjoining chambers to Severus'.

They had practically been living together ever since. No one had known, save Albus, and no one knew that Severus had hidden away for the past year in her chambers in Hogwarts.

Of course, Minerva had thought he was simply living in the Room of Requirement all that time. When students began to actually hide out there to avoid the Carrows and the supposedly evil Headmistress, he had simply explained that his chambers was separated from the students' immense cavern of a room; in fact, they had been. Students simply hadn't known that the door he came through was actually to a hall that led to Civia's chambers.

She nearly collapsed onto the couch, tossing the cane aside to the floor, overwhelmed and aggrieved and broken and lost.

People talk about soldiers with PTSD after the war, commanders who retire gratefully and return to their farms, inventors who return to peaceful inventions.

People never mention spies after the war's end.

What was she to do, she wondered. What happened to a spy whose cause no longer needed her?

They'd always need people like Harry and his friends and Minerva and Kingsley. They didn't need her anymore.

What was she supposed to do? She had made no plans, had dreamed no visions of the future, had thought no _what if_ s. The thought of surviving the war with Severus…it had never occurred to her, not really.

Nor to Albus, nor Severus, who both planned to die for this war. Well, at least, Severus _had_ planned to die fighting this war, until she had revealed him as a spy to Voldemort. After that, he was free.

Had he felt like this? Useless and unwanted and pointless? Robbed of purpose?

No wonder he had been so hostile and bitter toward her in the beginning.

What was she to do?

She couldn't teach, not after the horrors of the previous year. Nor could she set up shop in an apothecary—no one would ever buy potions from an ex-Death Eater, no matter if she'd been a spy. Research was possible, but not without an income. And while the Potter vault was not exactly empty, she had sworn that she would leave it to Harry for making a life for himself after the war…

In that moment, she hated Severus.

She hated him, for letting her live. For giving her a new life. For allowing her this chance. Because what could she do now?

She may as well be dead.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad…if she stopped taking her potions and antivenin, or if she brewed a poison instead…or if she just hurled herself from the Astronomy Tower.

Wouldn't that be justice? It was no less than she deserved, really…

But no. She couldn't do that to Severus.

Could she?

He was his own man, with all the world before him now. He was a war hero, a renowned Potions Master, a competent and powerful wizard. He'd be fine without her, really…

And so would Harry, really. She had failed her promise to James and Lily to look out for their son. She hadn't been able to do that, and had in the end sent him to what she thought was certain death. He would be fine without her. The Order and the Weasleys would look out for him, not to mention Minerva and the rest of the staff…

Before she realized it, she found herself climbing the stairs to the Astronomy Tower.

It had been more than a year since she'd been up here…since she killed Albus, that May night. God. Had it only been a year ago? It felt like five years ago.

"What do you think you're doing?"

She turned to find Severus hurrying up the steps behind her. Civia halted in her tracks. "Severus," she sighed, knowing the game was over.

"You were going to jump," he stated, voice frigidly cold, in a way it hasn't been in years toward her.

"I—"

She sighed again. "Yes."

"Did this evening mean nothing to you?" he spat. "Our concern and—and love for you, shown for all to see by that charming party in the Great Hall…did that show you nothing?"

"Severus, half of them were looking at me with pity, like I'm broken," she snapped. "The others wouldn't meet my eyes at all—too afraid of what I'm capable of."

His dark eyes glittered angrily. "And me—you would leave me?" he asked hoarsely. "Do I mean so little to you?"

"Of course not!" Civia exclaimed sharply, then deflated with guilt. "You—you are the only reason I hesitated…I don't think I could have done it, though."

His shoulders relaxed slightly at the admission. "Come back to our chambers, Civia. You need your sleep."

"I—okay," she conceded. "And…for what it's worth…I'm sorry. I wasn't—I wasn't thinking properly."

Severus nodded. "We are all allowed moments of stupidity, I suppose. Next time, however, don't be alone. Find me."

She nodded too, and accepted his offered arm to help her back down the stairs to return to their rooms.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **August 1995**

It was not a week later, after Snape found out, that she was summoned again. In the cavernous room in Malfoy Manor that the Dark Lord had claimed as his own for meetings, alone with the wizard himself (save for Lucius and a handful of other Inner Circle members), Civia reported on the Order meeting while kneeling before the Dark Lord, listing off every member that she could remember.

Which is to say, all of them.

"Very good, Civia," the Dark Lord praised lightly. "Very fine work. You may go for tonight."

She stood and bowed deeply. "Thank you, my Lord."

Civia departed, lingering outside in the foyer for a moment as she fetched her cloak from where she had stored it.

"Civia."

The witch turned. "Lucius, my dear," she purred, hip cocked as she greeted her lover. "How good to see you."

"The pleasure is mine," he murmured. "Join me for a drink?"

Her eyebrow rose, teasing. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

She followed him.

Severus was patrolling the corridors that evening, not that he really needed to. Students had yet to arrive, and there were only a handful of staff left in the castle, but really. Moody was correct— _Constant vigilance_ , indeed.

Having expected to meet no one but perhaps the Bloody Baron, it came as a surprise when he spotted a figure slumped to the floor in the entrance hall, a trail of blood in their wake upon the floor.

"Who— _Civia?_ " he exclaimed, recognizing the woman after a moment.

Her head shot up, eyes narrowed and wand in hand before a word was fully out of his mouth. "Severus," she greeted a moment later, perfectly cool despite the fact that she was lying in a heap in the middle of Hogwarts' entrance hall.

"You were summoned," he commented, eyeing the blood and the dark cloak that hid its source.

She nodded minutely. "Yes."

The Potions Master stepped closer, slowly, so as to not spook her. Her lip was split and one eye was black, but her cloak hid the source of the bleeding.

"Do you require assistance?" he asked quietly.

Her lips thinned momentarily, before the witch nodded slowly. "I can't walk anymore," she admitted bitterly. "They broke the bone in my right leg and cursed it against simple healing."

"If you don't mind, I'll bring you to my chambers, where I have the correct potions," he offered, conscious that their truce was a tentative and delicate thing at the moment.

"Do it," she sighed, and allowed him to levitate her body into the air and down to his chambers in the dungeons, guarded by a witch that Civia thought she recognized as Circe.

The chambers that Severus brought her into were not quite what she had expected. Not that she had known what to expect, really, as they were all but strangers to each other. The rooms were well lit and warm, colored in rich jewel tones and absolutely luxurious. Bookshelves lined the sitting room walls, wrapping around a fireplace and several doors.

Carefully, he lowered her with a flick of his wand to the burgundy sofa. "I'll be right back," he murmured and disappeared through one of the doors.

The wizard was back seemingly seconds later, several potions in hand.

If she questioned his choices or doubted that he did not poison them, it did not show on her face as she gratefully drank each one as directed, though a curious smirk quirked her lips, Severus noted.

Belatedly, he remembered that she was a Potions Mistress.

After carefully healing her cursed and shattered right leg, he sat down in the armchair opposite her, studying the witch curiously.

She was much the same as the last time he'd seen her, during Order meetings during the first war, with only a couple more lines upon her face. Her olive skin was clear and spotless, her features delicate and fine, her dark hair shining in the candlelight.

Her cloak was still damp with the blood from a stab wound on her side, her lip split and her eye bruised—but in spite of whatever she had suffered, she gazed at him defiantly, eyes calm and controlled as she looked upon him.

She was a plain woman, but in that moment, she was stunning.

"What happened in the meeting?" Severus asked after a moment of silence between the spies.

"I reported on the Order meeting," she shrugged, suppressing a wince at the jolt of pain at the movement. His eyes still caught it. "Reported on who showed up, who was interested, who they are looking to recruit."

The Potions Master nodded. "Why were you punished?"

"I wasn't," she replied, but paused. "Well. Not by the Dark Lord. I am…well. You'll find out sooner or later, I suppose."

Her tone was hesitant, but she sighed nevertheless. "I am the Death Eater's whore, you see. Morgana."

 _Ah_. Well, that explained some things. He'd heard of the call girl in the Inner Circle, who worked hard to serve the higher ranked Death Eaters. She was called Morgana, nicknamed for the legendary sorceress and seductress.

Before he'd been outed as a spy, he was on the fringes of the Inner Circle, never quite inducted but never quite separate, and had heard a great deal about this Morgana.

It was difficult to imagine this plain woman as a legendary Death Eater seductress, but…well, Severus knew better than most not to judge by appearances.

"Morgana," he acknowledged aloud. "I have heard of you, but I never knew you were a spy as well."

She let out a brief little cackle. "Ah yes, my little nickname—and my surprise purpose. No one expects a whore to be a spy too. But that is why I am known amongst the Outer Circle as Morgana. It explains my presence as well as my secrecy—no one wants their physical vulnerabilities shared. It keeps others from approaching me to proposition me. I'm a prize for the Inner Circle exclusively."

Civia's face was strangely prideful as she explained, though it was a bitter pride. And he knew there was a price for her status.

But she sighed and changed the subject. "Albus wishes for us to cooperate with each other—form a partnership, of sorts."

"He does," Severus agreed noncommittally.

She continued. "Upon giving it more thought, I suppose…I agree. We could do well together. Help each other."

His eyebrows rose. She'd changed her mind rather quickly then, after a rather vehement denial.

 _—and I don't need you!_ Her voice echoed in his ear.

"Besides," she added, "I believe Albus wishes for you to become the Order's official Spy Master. This would be the first logical step—you and me working together and forming a partnership. You being my handler, I suppose."

"And you would agree to it?"

Her hazel eyes were guarded. "Only on agreement of certain conditions, Severus."

"And they are?"

"No pity, no pandering. If I need your help, I will ask for it. In return, I will tell you everything," she outlined.

He nodded slowly. "It sounds…fair."

"But first I assume you have questions," Civia added.

She was a sharp one, that was sure. "How did you come to be Morgana? And a spy?"

The Potions Mistress sighed, but appeared calm and collected, unbothered by his questions. "I was two years ahead of you and my brother in school, as you may recall. I was in Ravenclaw. It was sometime in my third year that I purposefully fell in with a group of older Slytherin students. It was sometime in my fifth year that I seduced Lucius Malfoy and was subsequently introduced to the Dark Lord."

Severus cocked his head to the side, doing the math. "He was engaged to Narcissa at the time," he argued after a pause. "And you were fifteen."

She laughed. It was a high, cold laugh. "Oh my dear Severus," she replied mockingly. "You really think that stopped him? For it did nothing.

"He saw my supposed innocence and crushed it under his heel," Civia replied coldly. "He took that from me, that which I supposedly gave willingly. In exchange, he gave me what I wanted…after a few months, I suppose. He served his purpose and took me to the Dark Lord, who was amused by this curious, plucky little Ravenclaw who thought she could be useful.

"It was then that I became their whore, before my sixteenth birthday. I spied on my fellow students and sent the Dark Lord reports on who was likely to defect to his side. Meanwhile, I was also sending Albus anonymous notes about who to look out for, who was growing curious about the Dark Arts. I recall sending both your name.

"I soon graduated and received the Dark Mark not a week later, in addition to joining Albus' merry band called the Order of the Phoenix. I have been serving both ever since. Does that answers your questions?"

Severus nodded slowly. "All save one. Why?"

"Why?" she repeated slowly.

"Why put yourself through that? Why offer to spy for Albus? Why any of it?"

She smiled coyly. "That, I'm afraid, is an answer for another day. Now, if that is all, I will take my leave."

 **August 1998**

With the castle restored, many people leave Hogwarts, with only the staff and a couple Order members left in the school.

Soon after the Astronomy Tower debacle, Civia and Severus moved from the Headmistress' chambers back into their old chambers in the dungeons near the Potions classroom.

Her depression did not yet abate, but she did feel somewhat better, knowing how furious Severus was when he found her—how much he cared.

It was hard not knowing what to with her life, where she would go, what she would do, but Minerva made no attempts to make her leave.

In fact, the new Headmistress solved her problem, one Saturday early in August.

Civia and Severus were lounging in their shared living room, which they had made into a shared library as well, while reading and doing research respectively, when Minerva knocked upon their door.

It was Severus who answered the door.

"He—Severus?" the Scottish witch's brogue was more pronounced in her surprise. "What're ye doing here?"

"I live here, Headmistress," he replied in amusement, with a twitch of his lips.

"Oh. Excuse me, I thought Civia had these chambers."

"I do."

Severus stepped back to allow her to see Civia, where she was curled up on the couch with her book.

"Erm," Minerva paused, mind visibly whirling. "Oh. Well. I wanted to speak with you both, actually, so this works out quite well. May I come in?"

"Of course," the Potions Master stepped aside to allow her entrance.

Minerva sat down in one of the two armchairs, both a rich Slytherin green opposite the Ravenclaw navy couch where Civia sat, and cleared her throat. "Well, as I'm sure you are both aware, the school year is nearing, and I find myself lacking Potions and Defense teachers."

"I would be grateful to resume teaching Defense," Severus replied calmly, with a gracious tilt to his head.

Minerva smiled. "Excellent! Civia?"

"I—" The witch stared. "You can't possibly be serious, Minerva!"

"Why ever not?"

Civia flushed. "Must I spell it out? I'm a Death Eater, a, a—"

"A hero," the Headmistress cut in. "I'll hear nothing less, my dear. You won us this war, and you are a hero for all you did. I'll tell the Board the same thing if they dare question my decision. What do you say?"

And what did she say?

Well, what could she say?

"Alright. I will return to teach."

"Civia and Severus have agreed to return as professors," Minerva explained to her colleagues.

Her new office looked much as Albus had kept it, bright and airy, full of whirling and occasionally smoking mysterious objects, of which one could only guess at their purpose. There were, perhaps, more books along the walls, and they were certainly more organized.

"Oh, excellent!" cried Filius, clapping his hands together excitedly.

Pomona nodded. "Yes, it is…though I admit, I'm surprised. I thought Civia had had enough of it all."

"She thought she wouldn't be welcome anymore," Minerva explained sadly. "She thought after all that—that, that she would just be kicked out and banished from the school, I swear! The look on her face when I asked…" the Headmistress trailed off sadly.

Both of the Heads of House likewise looked saddened by this news.

Poppy Pomfrey rolled her eyes. "That girl. I swear. Brilliant as Rowena Ravenclaw herself, but sometimes…" the matron shook her head. "Sometimes she more clueless than anyone else I've ever met."

"She doesn't realize all she's done for the wizarding world, much less for Hogwarts," Filius added sadly.

Minerva nodded to that. "She thinks herself a pariah, most likely."

"Well," Pomona decided loudly. "We'll just have to show her she's wrong!"

"Hear, hear!" cried the Charms Master.

Minerva chuckled, cheered by her friends and colleagues, before a thought occurred to her. "So you know…I went to find Civia, only to be faced with Severus."

"What's so strange about that?" asked Poppy. "They're closer than peas in a pod."

The Headmistress nodded. "Yes, but I realized that they are staying in adjoining rooms in the dungeons."

Eyebrows rose all around.

"Well," Pomona murmured. "Are they—?"

"Not as far as I know," Filius offered. "Minerva?"

"I don't think so. Not yet, anyway."

Poppy grinned. "Not yet. How interesting…"

Minerva cleared her throat. "I suggest we keep this to ourselves, however, save for in the event of an emergency. They enjoy their privacy, after all."

"Of course," Filius agreed. The others nodded solemnly, before smiles broke out again amongst the four of the staff.

"Not yet," echoed a portrait on the wall, chuckling to himself.

"Oh, shush Albus," scolded Minerva lightly. "Enough of your schemes."

The portrait again chuckled, interlaced his fingers, and began to think and, perhaps, plot.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **August 1995**

Civia returned to Hogwarts limping once again, struggling to make it into the castle. When her strength failed and she found herself once more in a heap, this time near the staircases, she drew her wand and whispered an incantation. " _Expecto Patronum_.

"Severus. Your assistance is requested. Near the first floor staircases."

The silvery raven flew off towards the dungeons.

Minutes later, the Potions Master was swooping toward her, his cloak flaring behind him like a bat's wings. "Civia."

"Severus," she returned the greeting with a nod. "I was subjected to the Cruciatus for a while tonight. The spasms are making it impossible to get to my chambers."

He nodded and brought her to his rooms without a snarky response. Perhaps they were getting somewhere, she thought.

"Why were you punished?" he asked as they went downstairs, the witch floating and following behind him.

She sighed. "He was already furious when I got there. I think it was more the convenience of my presence, as he needed to speak to me. Apparently, I forgot to mention that I was a Researcher in Residence at Hogwarts. I honestly forgot to tell him, and only remembered after, so I sent the news to Lucius to share with the Dark Lord, but that wasn't good enough."

Severus winced. Mistakes were not taken lightly by the Dark Lord. Even the smallest were punishable by the Cruciatus.

"But he was pleased with my news," she shrugged. "So I got off easy, really."

It didn't look like it to Severus, but fair enough.

The Cruciatus was nasty to begin with, but used over a prolonged period of time…the effects only worsened. Already, she was trembling and shaking, face white and sweaty, lips pursed with pain. She would likely have a seizure or two tonight, given how quickly the early symptoms had set in.

"I suggest you remain here tonight," he offered simply. "I can watch over you in case you do have a seizure."

The witch nodded. "Yes, I…I think it likely that I will have one tonight. The cramps have already started."

Severus murmured a curse. "Foolish Gryffindor!" he spat, hurrying to fetch a pain relief potion.

Snorting, she corrected, "Foolish Ravenclaw, actually."

He paused at her side before handing her the potion. "I forget that we were in school together and that I should know these things."

Civia laughed before gulping down the potion gratefully. "Thank you, Severus. And it's alright. I graduated before you were really ingratiated into that group, I believe. As it was, I was not exactly the most obvious future Death Eater."

Severus sat down in the armchair next to hers. "Perhaps that was for the best."

She snorted. "Oh, I know it was. You don't think that was accidental, do you? I was careful, even back then."

Again, Severus was left to wonder how long she had been planning for this life of hers, knowing that she would never give a straight answer if asked.

"We should work on a potion for the aftereffects," he suggested instead to change the topic. "It would be a worthy endeavor."

The Potions Mistress hummed. "You are correct, Severus. Perhaps we should. We should also devise a system for communicating when I'm summoned, so you can prepare and plan for assisting me afterward."

He nodded. "Indeed. First, I think we should find a shortcut from your rooms to my own."

"That sounds sensible," she agreed.

* * *

 **September 1998**

September came before they knew it, arriving with a flurry of falling autumnal leaves upon the grounds and a train full of schoolchildren.

It was Severus who was selected as Deputy Headmaster, and so he had the honor of greeting the first years from the boats.

During the feast after the Sorting, Civia and Severus sat beside each other, their habit, and observed the students before them as they ate.

"They get smaller every year, I swear," Civia sighed quietly, eying a couple of first years at the Ravenclaw table, who were gaping at the enchanted ceiling above them.

Severus snorted. "You say that every year, I swear."

"Perhaps," she smiled, "But it's true."

Later in their chambers, they broke out a bottle of Firewhiskey to celebrate the beginning of the year. They did not drink much, only enough to get barely tipsy, as there were classes the next day and neither wished to try that with hangovers.

"Who'd have thought," she murmured. "Who'd have thought, come the end of the war, we'd be right back where we started, here at Hogwarts."

Severus hummed loudly that that, a nonverbal agreement.

"What'd ya think of the Sorting?" she asked curiously.

"The Sorting Hat is a Slytherin," he replied, making her laugh. "Why else would he chose now to start ignoring blood status when Sorting? There's never been so many muggleborns in Slytherin, and it's only the first time it has done this."

She leaned against his shoulder, as they were sitting side by side on the couch. "It's good, though. It's a good change. Just like Minerva's idea. Good change."

Earlier that evening, the new Headmistress had decreed that students could sit at whatever table they wanted for all meals, save the Sorting and Leaving Feasts, to encourage inter-house unity.

"Yes…" he sighed, looking down at the witch fondly. "I suppose it is."

The first day of classes was a bit nerve-wracking, if Civia was honest. She had the seventh years first, followed by half the first years.

She wondered how Severus' students were reacting to him.

After all, the former spies were free now, with no masters to serve but themselves. No pretenses to put on, no masks to wear. Just…themselves.

The seventh years didn't know what to make of her anymore. That much was evident from the very moment they walked into the classroom, watching her hesitantly and uncertainly.

She opened her mouth to begin her lecture, but hesitated, eying them reluctantly, and sighed. "Let's talk before we get to business, shall we?"

Students exchanged glances of confusion with each other, watching her curiously.

"I'm not who you thought I was," she began. "I'm not the woman who taught you during your fifth year, and I'm certainly not the woman I had to pretend to be last year.

"For what it's worth…I am sorry for the treatment you all received last year, but I do not regret it. Had I not been Headmistress, there would have been far worse in charge of Hogwarts. Things could have been much worse," she reiterates, solemn as she glances around the room.

Neville, who had surprisingly returned to Hogwarts for a re-do of his seventh year, glanced around briefly, before raising his hand.

"Yes, Neville?"

"Professor," he began hesitantly, "None of us blame you for what happened. I think we'd rather like to thank you."

"What?" It took all her self-control not to gape at the nodding class.

Luna spoke up, her dreamy voice calm and reassuring. "We don't hate you, if that's what you think, Professor. No one does, not even the younger students."

She blinked, cleared her throat, and nodded. "Alright, well. Now that that's settled, let's begin with the lesson, shall we?"

After that, well, the first years were barely anything, though she did make a similar speech with rather dissimilar reactions.

"…I am not the witch that I once pretended to be," she concluded.

One young boy raised his hand immediately.

"Yes, Mister James?"

"So—you weren't a spy?"

Again, she was surprised into silence for a moment. "Well—yes, I was. What has that to do with anything?"

A girl, with ebony skin and a poof of untamed curls, raised her hand then. "Yes, Miss Uzumi?"

"Ma'am, we've heard a lot about you—both you and Professor Snape—but not really that much about what you did during the war. What was it like?"

"You—you want to hear about my part in the war?"

Again, the class responded with eager nods. She sighed. "Ask me in four years, maybe then I'll be willing to talk about it. Now, let's get down to business, shall we? Potions."

"Severus, I think we are legends to the students."

Beside her at the head table in the Great Hall, the Defense teacher snorted. "Why on earth would you think that?" he replied, voice wry and sarcastic as ever.

"I take it you had a day similar to mine?" she inquired, amused.

He rolled his eyes. "Couldn't go five minutes in a lecture without someone raising their hands to ask what it was like to fight the Dark Lord and help you."

At that, she laughed brightly. "Some things never change," she murmured, eyeing the students fondly, thinking of their constant curiosity.

Severus chuckled. "Thank Merlin some things do."

"You're quite right about that."


	6. Chapter 6

**August 5, 1995**

"Hold it!" Ron breathed, flinging out an arm to stop Harry and Hermione walking any further. "They're still in the hall, we might be able to hear something."

The three of them looked cautiously over the banisters. The gloomy hallway below was packed with witches and wizards, including all of Harry's guard. They were whispering excitedly together. In the very centre of the group Harry saw the dark, greasy-haired head and prominent nose of his least favourite teacher at Hogwarts, Professor Snape. Harry leant further over the banisters. He was very interested in what Snape was doing for the Order of the Phoenix…

* * *

"Don't look now, but the Weasley twins are trying to eavesdrop again," Civia muttered to Severus. Both looked up to find an Extendable Ear descending from a landing several floors up.

Civia chuckled while Snape scowled. "Dunderheads," he muttered.

"At least they seem to be reasonably clever," she replied smoothly.

"If only they used that cleverness for good," the professor sniped, and Civia laughed again. "I must be going," he added and turned to leave.

* * *

After the debacle involving the screaming portrait, Civia found herself in the hall beside Sirius and Remus, and the students coming downstairs to their left, as her distant cousin greeted his godson warmly.

Her back was rigid in discomfort. She turned to Molly quickly, and said, "Thank you for the invitation to dinner, Molly, but I really must decline…"

"Nonsense, dear!" the Weasley matriarchy announced loudly. "You're looking far too peaky, Civia, you're staying! You're nearly as bad as Professor Snape, I swear!"

She sighed and admitted defeat, looking up to find the students looking at her with interest.

"Er—hi," Harry said awkwardly, his conversation with Sirius concluded.

"Hello, Harry," she replied stiffly.

Remus stepped in quickly, nervous. "Harry, this is Civia, she's—"

"In the Order, yes, I think the boy got that," she laughed smoothly. "Thank you, Remus."

His gaze turned to her in confusion, but he pursed his lips and nodded.

"Well!" Mrs. Weasley said loudly, "Dinner time, come along!"

They hurried into the kitchen at her command. Somehow, Civia found herself between Nymphadora Tonks and Sirius.

The girls—Ginny and Hermione, if she remembers correctly (of course she does)—were amused by Tonks' usual antics for quite some time, and soon the other students joined in the fun, but it was not long before Harry's attention slipped away to Civia.

"So, you're Civia," he began awkwardly.

"Yes," she responded slowly, ready for an inquisition. "I'm Sirius' cousin. Distantly."

Hermione turned toward Civia, and her eyebrows rose. "You're in the Black family?"

"…yes, I am," she agreed hesitantly. "But so is Tonks, though not by name."

Hermione nodded, accepting the answer, though the curiosity in her eyes had not dimmed.

"What do you do?" the Potter boy asked.

"I'm a Potions Mistress," she responded vaguely.

Tonks snorted loudly. "A Potions Mistress, she says—she's one of the best minds in the wizarding academic world! A brilliant potioneer, and one of the only Potions Mistresses of the century!"

"Thank you, Tonks," she replied lowly, rubbing her forehead in exasperation at the proclamation of her accomplishments.

"Like Snape?"

She laughed slightly at Harry's question. "Well, he's technically a Potions _Master_ , but yes, otherwise."

"Civia's going to be at Hogwarts!" Hermione threw in excitedly. "She's a Researcher in Residence, courtesy of Dumbledore's invitation."

The older witch shrugged humbly. "It's more to have another set of eyes at Hogwarts for the Order."

"Why would you need an extra set of eyes?" Harry asked. "It's Hogwarts, I mean. What could happen there?" Civia exchanged a glance with Sirius, which Harry saw. "What is it? What don't I know?"

Sirius sighed. "Harry…Hogwarts is Dumbledore's stronghold. Voldemort knows this. It's a target, no matter who's there…and we're not willing to take risks."

* * *

Discussing this mysterious weapon with Ron and the twins, Harry didn't quite know what to think…

"…What'd'ya think of Civia?" Fred asked suddenly.

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Civia," George repeated, motioning with his hands. "About ye tall, bit plain but pretty, sharp as a dagger, I think. Perfectly shag-able, I reckon. Ring a bell?"

"Oh." He didn't know what to think of the mysterious witch, either. "I, er, dunno. What about her?"

Ron shrugged. "She shows up for the meetings. Hangs out with Sirius and Lupin a lot. Tonks too, but not nearly as much. But we barely know anything about her."

"Is that so strange?" Harry asked. "I mean, she's in the Order. They all seem kinda mysterious, don't they?"

Fred and George snorted. "Yeah, sure," Fred said. "What's her surname?"

"I—er," he stuttered, trying to remember, but coming up blank. "Dunno."

"Exactly. She says she's a cousin of Sirius', but there's no Civia in the Black family tree. So it's a stretch at best, a lie at worst," George said.

Harry's eyebrows knit together. "Er, that's interesting and everything, but…why does it matter?"

"Well, we barely know anything—but knowing who's in the Order is all we've got. Most of the others are willing to talk with us—besides Snape, of course—but she actively avoids us," Fred explained. "I'm surprised she agreed to have dinner with all of us tonight."

"She's a Potions Mistress," Ron added. "One of the best apparently, but Hermione reads those potions articles all the time, especially the recent ones—she's never heard of a Civia."

Harry paused. _Okay_ , he thought, it was suspicious…

"Shh!" said Fred, half-rising from the bed. "Listen!"

They fell silent. Footsteps were coming up the stairs.

"Mum," said George and without further ado there was a loud crack and Harry felt the weight vanish from the end of his bed…

* * *

 **October 1998**

Taking stock of the potions left in the hospital wing's supply, Civia frowned. "Poppy?" she called.

The matron returned quickly to the store room. "Yes, dear?"

"Why are we going through Calming Draughts so quickly?" she asked. "Dreamless Sleep too?"

Poppy Pomfrey sighed. "It's the older students, Civia. They have night terrors, panic attacks. I've been handing those potions out like candy. Thank goodness they're not addictive."

Her brow furrowed. "Can you name those students?"

"Of course. It's mostly the DA, really—the ones that fought in the Battle of Hogwarts—but a handful of younger students who were given a rough time by the Carrows, too."

Well.

Something would have to be done about that.

And just like that, Civia began to plot.

Before she knew it, however, the date for the Order of Merlin awards ceremony was approaching.

Minerva had given her permission to take the students who would be attending the ceremony to Hogsmeade to find appropriate dress one Saturday early in October, so that was what she found herself doing, trying to herd the group to the correct shop and keep them from distraction. Severus trailed behind, happy to let her corral the students.

"Let them be," he eventually murmured softly. "They're responsible."

She grinned. "Never thought I'd hear you say that about students," she teased, before calling for the students' attention so as to coordinate a meeting place in three hours' time.

The Potions Mistress was unsurprised to see them wander off to the Three Broomsticks, happy for the opportunity to skive off and have fun.

"Shall we get our robes first?" she asked Severus.

"If we are to avoid the rush of students when they realize they don't have much time left to do so, then yes I suppose we shall."

* * *

The seamstress was more than happy to help them find appropriate robes for the Order of Merlin ceremony, she was delighted in fact.

"It's not every day heroes of the Wizarding World come into my shop—much less the spies of Hogwarts!" she exclaimed heartily.

"The spies of Hogwarts?" repeated Severus softly into Civia's ear.

She shrugged easily. "Well, I mean…we are, Severus," she admitted quietly.

"So who shall we start with?" asked the seamstress, as she reentered from the back with armfuls of robes.

Civia grinned. "Him!" she cried, shoving him forward with a laugh, even as he glared half-heartedly over his shoulder.

* * *

It was a week later that the ceremony was held at the Ministry, in the formal ballroom. The Golden Trio, Civia, Severus, and several others of the Order were awarded Orders of Merlin, First Class, while several more were given Second Class.

The ceremony, solemn and formal, was followed by a celebratory ball, which found Civia and Severus hiding in the corner, avoiding fans, reporters, and fame-seekers. Many of the war heroes were being monopolized by the aforementioned groups, but the spies had cast a discrete Notice Me Not charm upon themselves, leaving them to drink in peace.

Severus had found a set of dark green robes, so dark they were only a shade away from black, which complemented his skin nicely, if you asked Civia.

The witch had found silvery grey dress robes, with emerald accents—a truly Slytherin dress, as if she was unveiling her true colors for the first time. They had a high neck, thankfully hiding the almost grotesque scarring upon her neck and shoulder, and draped nicely upon her figure. They were flattering, though not truly stunning or attention grabbing; that was enough for her.

The look on Severus's face had been reward enough when he had first seen her in them at the shop, but she refused to dwell on that thought.

Eventually, however, their chatting was interrupted by the Minister himself.

"Evening, Kingsley," the witch greeted.

"Come now, my friends," the wizard implored. "Can't you dance, at least once? Why hide and skulk in the corners? You are heroes, both of you—celebrate, be merry, have fun!"

"What makes you think we aren't having fun as it is?" Civia queried, a knowing smirk curling her red lips. "We were having a wonderful conversation about the uses of aconite…"

"Just once," Kingsley repeated. "A favor, please?"

"Oh, very well," the Potions Master sighed, standing and offering his arm to Civia. "Shall we?"

"Alright," she sighed, placing her hand on his proffered arm. "Shall we dance?"

The Ministry watched, laughing fondly, as the two spies swept to the center of the ballroom, sending the skittish away in their wake, and many of the edgier dancers to take a break.

Regardless of responses, all of the attendees were watching the spies, all eyes upon their regal forms: Severus, clad in the darkest of emeralds, and Civia, in the lightest of greys—like dusk and dawn, clashing, only to find themselves paired with an equal.

But the pair were oblivious to the eyes watching them. They were already wrapped up in a conversation with each other, Kingsley realized, surely discussing some potions innovation or idea.

And just like that, watching the pair gracefully navigate the dancefloor, the Minister of Magic thought: _oh_.

Quickly, he found Minerva, whom he had come to call a close friend because of their work together in leading the Order.

"Quite a match, don't you think?" he asked lowly, nodding to the dancing couple.

She grinned, catlike. "A perfect match, in many respects, one would think."

"Are they…?" the Minister paused, thinking, watching and observing the couple—his hand at a respectful place on her back, their hands gently clasped, the formal distance between their bodies. "No, they aren't…"

"Not yet," Minerva agreed, smiling happily. "Not yet."

"Interesting," Kingsley mused.

The Headmistress nodded. "Filius, Pomona, Poppy, and I have a pool going. Care to take a bet?"


	7. Chapter 7

**September and October 1995**

As she was now a Hogwarts Researcher in Residence, it was traditional that she be introduced at the Welcoming Feast. Civia had asked for no introduction or announcement about her presence at Hogwarts during the Welcoming Feast, and Albus had easily agreed.

Of course, that did not mean she did not attend.

A raven fluttered through the air into the Great Hall, cawing softly as it flew down toward the staff's table while, before the professors, students were streaming in.

Severus watch its descent, before it swooped down and landed upon his shoulder. "Really?" he asked lowly.

In response, the bird cawed in his face, before turning to look out over the students smugly.

"Severus," came the Headmaster's voice. "You seem to have attained a new friend."

The Potions Master sighed. "Indeed, she has unfortunately chosen me as a 'friend'."

Albus laughed merrily, and Severus wondered if Civia had told him, or if the Headmaster had merely figured it out as he had.

Throughout the feast, Civia was on his shoulder or perched on the back of his chair, watching carefully and ignoring any stares she got. She listened to it all, from Albus' salutations and good wishes, to that Umbridge woman's interrupting speech.

It was informative, if nothing else.

* * *

After the feast had ended, Civia remained on the Potions Master's shoulder as he descended into the dungeons and entered his chambers.

"Well?" he asked her.

She leapt from his shoulder and transformed with a soft pop into her usual form. "I am apparently your new familiar."

"Is that what you intend?" he asked archly.

"Yes," she replied coolly, before laughing. "Oh my goodness, did you see the students' faces? Just when you couldn't be any more frightening, you use a raven instead of an owl for post!"

His lips curled slightly into a smirk. "Well, it doesn't hurt."

The witch rolled her eyes, before her mirth dimmed and she remembered some business they had yet to address.

"The Dark Lord wants me to deal with you, Severus."

His smirk faded. "Ah, yes. I was wondering when he would want you to kill me."

"He suggested _trying_ —but before that, he suggested I befriend and eventually seduce you," she added. "I think he wants me to befriend you but, if the opportunity seizes itself, to kill you without revealing myself."

The Potions Master paused, thinking. "Perhaps a poisoning is in order…"

"Severus, you can't be serious!"

He smirked. "And why not? It'd be poetic justice for a Potions Master."

"A little obvious, don't you think?" she asked, planning and scheming. "You'd think you'd prepare for that…"

Severus nodded. "Which is why it shan't kill me, only slightly subdue me for a week or so."

"You have a plan," she realized, perking up, and grinned. "Share."

* * *

It happened in the Great Hall.

It was a typical early October evening when the staff and students alike were gathered for their dinner.

Severus was eating his shepherd's pie, while "Morgana" the raven perched on the back of his chair, glaring down at any student who gazed upon her too long. He was seated between Minerva and Poppy, which they had hoped for but not planned, when it happened.

He'd taken a long gulp from his wine, when his trembling hand lowered his goblet of wine to the table, only to fumble and send it crashing to the floor, drawing every eye in the Great Hall.

His face had gone abruptly white, as he gripped his throat in terror, before his hands went immediately to his pockets.

"Poison!" he shouted in a mangled voice, and his familiar cawed in warning at his side—just as the Potions Master crumpled—before the entire school—to the floor.

Panic swept through the room, particularly at the Slytherin and head tables, though many could only gape in horror.

"Poppy!" Minerva snapped, sweeping over to the prone and now unconscious Potions Master's side.

The mediwitch was there not a second later, checking his pulse and vital signs with a wave of her wand.

"Hemlock!" Poppy announced quietly. "He's ingested too much—I can't brew an antidote, not in the time it'd take—"

But the raven had fluttered to the floor, between Minerva and Severus, pecking at his pockets.

"What are you doing, bird?" the Transfiguration Mistress cried. "Shoo!"

The raven cawed at her, before drawing a wrinkled white stone from the pocket.

"A bezoar," Poppy realized, snatching it up. "Severus is brilliant!"

* * *

 **October 1998**

Soon after the Order of Merlin ceremony, Civia called the remainder of the DA and the veterans of the Battle of Hogwarts to the Room of Requirement.

For the occasion, the room had provided a vast and comfortable hall, filled with couches and chairs and sofas, pillows and cushions everywhere.

Civia had even asked the house elves to provide hot chocolate for herself and the students, who trickled in nervously, usually in pairs and groups, as they anxiously glanced around to see who was present and to postulate their purpose for being called there that evening.

She greeted them all as they came in, welcoming them to the couches and cushions and hot chocolate while they waited for everyone to arrive.

Draco was the last to arrive, trailing in hesitantly, as if uncertain he was welcome. The Slytherin stood alone in the corner, waiting, and Civia felt an immense pity welling up inside her at the sight of the lonely young man.

She decided then and there to talk to the boy privately.

"Hello?" she called to the students, who quickly quieted to hear her. "Hello, everyone.

"You've probably wondered why I called you all here tonight," she chuckled. "And Im sorry for the, well, the mystery about it all.

"I called you all here because you all participated, in some manner or another, in the Battle of Hogwarts or other battles and skirmishes during the war against V-Voldemort. It has come to my attention that Calming Draughts, Dreamless Sleep, and other potions have been used from the Infirmary in surprising numbers…and I know why, perhaps better than any of you think.

"Life after war is not easy. During it, you think—if I can just get to the end of this war, if I can just live to see it's end, I'll be happy and able to get on with the rest of my life. But you can't. You can't get on with your life like nothing happened, because things _did_ happen. To all of us.

"And the mind is sometimes the most difficult thing to heal.

"So consider this…a possible treatment. Every Thursday night, from now on, I will be holding these meetings here in the Room of Requirement after dinner, for anyone who wishes to attend.

"We will talk—talk about what happened, talk about how we felt about it, how we feel about it, and how we can try to move on.

"I can't promise it will work, or that it will help at all, but…we can try.

"Besides, you might hear some wicked stories. Who knows.

"Anyone care to share first, or shall I?"

Silence.

She hummed. "Well, I'm beginning to think you all showed up just in hopes of hearing some stories about the war from one of the spies of Hogwarts."

This time, chuckles echoed in the vast hall, and she smiled softly.

"Alright, I'll start.

"When I was in fifth year, Voldemort was just coming to power, and I knew things would not end without violence, which was only just beginning to start. I knew who was likely to join his Death Eaters, if they hadn't already. I knew a lot, just from watching the Slytherins and Ravenclaws.

"Oh yes, Ravenclaws too. It wasn't always so Slytherin-exclusive, you know. I was a Ravenclaw myself, you know.

"…Merlin, it seems so long ago," she murmured to herself, before clearing her throat and continuing. "Anyways…I was in my fifth year, barely sixteen, when I seduced my first Death Eater."

Again, silence. This time, with many, many furtive glances exchanged therein.

"Oh, yes, you heard correct. Now if this ends up in the _Prophet_ , you won't hear anymore from me—and this is literally the beginning of my story as a spy…

"He was engaged at the time, you see, and had recently graduated, so we didn't see each other often. But he paid me a favor and introduced me to Voldemort, who gave me the task of infiltrating Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. I accepted the task, and the Dark Mark that night.

"I went to Professor Dumbledore as soon as I returned to school…and that, I think, is where I will stop for tonight. On that story at least.

"As for something to get us going…well. I still have nightmares. Every night. I can't remember what it's like to sleep peacefully without a potion. I have silencing charms on my chambers to keep in the screams when I do have nightmares. I remember all I've done, all I've seen…and I know I'll never forget. I can only learn to live with the past and accept it."

Hermione Granger raised a nervous hand.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"I have nightmares too," she began hesitantly. "Mostly about when Bellatrix Lestrange had captured Harry, Ron, and I. She thought we had broken into her Gringotts vault, and she tortured me."

The room was silent, and Draco in the corner was as pale as Death herself.

"Sometimes…sometimes I think this is all a dream, and I'm just going to wake up back under her knife."

It went on.

* * *

Civia returned, physically and emotionally exhausted, to her shared chambers to find Severus reading in the sitting room. "How did it go?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, Severus," she sighed. "Those poor children. They've lived through so much, but they're so young still."

He stood, coming to her side, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Children are resilient, Civia. They will recover, eventually. They just need time, and you are providing a valuable resource in this….group therapy."

She smiled up to him. "Thank you, Severus," she murmured. "Now I think I'm going to shower and go to bed. Good night."

"Good night."


	8. Chapter 8

**November 1995**

Severus was in the hospital wing for two weeks recovering from the poisoning.

Meanwhile, Civia had been widely praised, despite her failure. Snape was a wily one, they said—took after Moody in his paranoia. Even the Dark Lord seemed amused at the tale, despite her failure.

Perhaps he hadn't really expected her to succeed anyways.

Regardless, she was not punished for her failure, but rather thanked by several Death Eaters for her attempt on the traitor's life. She was only endeared to the Inner Circle.

Their dear Morgana, who looked after their interests so well, unlike any other.

* * *

November found Civia walking in the Ministry of Magic's Level Nine one evening.

The Head of the Department of Mysteries had contacted her by owl the other day, asking for a meeting to discuss one of her former alchemy projects that the Department was continuing.

It was late, with most of the employees gone. The time had been at her request, so she did not have to leave the shop in the middle of the day.

All of the Department of Mysteries' employees were gone for the day, with only the head of the department—a wizened witch by the name of Kendra Validus—remaining as Civia accompanied her on the nightly sweep of the floor, ensuring it was in order before locking it.

But as they were taking a cursory glance over the Hall of Prophecies, both witches froze at an odd, whistling sound. Their wands were out in an instant, as they hurried to the source of the noise.

Civia found it in aisle ninety-seven. "Kendra!" she called, and her former boss was at her side swiftly, as their wands illuminated the scene in the gloomy, eerie dark.

A man was lying at the foot of a shelf, eyes glazed over vacantly, though he was making off whistling noises, like a tea kettle. "Broderick Bode," Kendra said, shocked, eyes wide.

The Potions Mistress knelt at the man's side, wand twitching as she cast a few spells. "He's triggered the defensive sigils—he needs to get to St. Mungo's. He attempted to steal a prophecy."

As Civia helped the Healers as best she could as an expert on the prophecies' sigils, her mind was whirling with implications and theories.

In the end, the Healers were resigned that, if Broderick was to recover, it would be on his own. As such, there was little chance he would: the now-former Unspeakable was put into the Long-Term ward, and was unlikely to ever leave.

* * *

It was early in the morning when she left St. Mungo's for the Order's headquarters. Plodding heavily, wearily, into the house, she was surprised to find Molly, Arthur, Remus, and Sirius already awake in the kitchen. Their eyes went up in surprise at her presence, and rose even higher as they saw her sleepless red eyes, the dark circles beneath them, and the exhaustion that slumped her shoulders.

"Call an emergency meeting," she said, her voice hoarse. "It's about the Department of Mysteries."

As they set out to summon them all, Civia slipped into a light doze at the kitchen table, her eyes too heavy to keep open.

* * *

She was woken by a hand on her shoulder, the spy nearly jumped out of her skin, as her trained reflexes had her wand at the person's throat before she was conscious of it. With a guilty, embarrassed apology to Albus, Civia stored it away as she peered around the room—now completely full with sleepy Order members.

Standing to shake off the hindering fatigue, she spoke quietly and sadly, to the room that grew silent as she did.

"Last night, Broderick Bode was found by myself and the Head of the Department of Mysteries, incapacitated and out of his mind on the floor in the Hall of Prophecies. We took him to St. Mungo's. He apparently attempted to touch a prophecy that was not his own, and the defensive sigils were activated against him. The Healers and myself worked through the night, but it is apparent that he has suffered brain damage—likely permanent—causing him to believe he is a teapot when he is conscious. If not acting like a teapot, he is comatose.

"As of now, he is in the Long-Term Spell Damage Ward, and expected to remain there unless he begins to heal himself. We cannot heal him; it is likely he will remain there for the rest of his life."

She paused, allowing a moment of silence for her one-time colleague. Questions erupted, but the spy hushed them with a virulent glare. "I hypothesize a Death Eater cast the Imperius upon him. He appears to have attempted to fight it off, but failed."

Albus placed a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you, Civia."

Moody eyed her suspiciously. "What were you doin' there, girl?"

Regarding him coolly, the Potions Mistress simply replied, "I worked there once, you know. Kendra Validus, the Head of the Department, called me in for a meeting to discuss one of my former projects that current Unspeakables were improving and working on. She wanted my advice, and we spoke as we did the nightly security sweep. I was one of the best Unspeakables of the Department, _Mad-Eye_. I still know many of the current Unspeakables, and many secrets of the Department. I am, though not an employee, one of their best advisors and, as such, I have all the right to be there."

Moody's real eye narrowed, while his roaming magical eye leveled on hers, focused on her. He was always suspicious of her because of her non-Gryffindor background and quiet nature.

Even here, in the Order, she could not be trusted apparently.

* * *

She was summoned not four hours after their meeting concluded.

Civia confronted Lucius immediately as she saw him, among the small crowd of departing Death Eaters, before he could disapparate.

She pulled him into a room quickly and turned to him swiftly.

"You idiot!" she spat. "I implicitly warned you not to try such an obvious thing! The Order has already seen through it—they know Bode was more subtle than that! They know a Death Eater used the Imperius on him!"

Lucius cut her off sharply. "I know what I am doing, Civia! I had to test the Department's defenses somehow!"

"Now, the defenses will be even stronger!" she corrected. "They will be suspicious of intruders and raise security! You have made a grave error—"

Abruptly, she was slammed against the wall, one of his hands holding his wand to her throat, while the other held her wand hand against the wall, pinning it there, unable to grasp her wand.

"You may have the Dark Lord's favor," he hissed in her ear, arrogant voice low and dangerous, "but you do _not_ insult me, _Civia_."

His grip on her wrist tightened, and the Potions Mistress hissed in pain as she felt a bolt of pain in her wrist, and a crack sounded in the silence. Lucius released her and she nearly slid to the ground. "Do not cross me."

With that, he disapparated with a crack.

Looking down at her rapidly swelling wrist, Civia grimaced. Carefully, she disapparated away.

"And just how did you manage to break your wand-arm at a meeting?" Severus asked as he healed said broken bone.

"Lucius," she spat, grimacing as the bone resealed together. Watching the bone fragments move under her skin was disturbing, to put it simply.

He nodded. "Ah," he merely said in acknowledgement.

That was all they said on the subject.

* * *

 **November 1998**

One evening, there was a knock upon her door from the sitting room, and recognized it as Severus' warning knock. Still, she answered, once checking that she was decent and her hair was still contained in a bun at the nape of her neck.

"Yes, Severus?"

"We have visitors," he said and stepped aside so she could see Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

"Oh, hello Lucius, Narcissa," she welcomed politely. "It's been too long."

In fact, it hadn't been long enough.

Narcissa smiled back, but Lucius was watching her with hawkish intensity.

"How good to see you, Civia," Mrs. Malfoy said warmly. "We just wanted to stop by to see you both—we didn't realize you two were living together. Are congratulations in order?"

"No, we simply enjoy each other's company," she replied evenly. "What brings you here?"

Lucius stepped back, admiring the room and ignoring the question. "What a lovely little setup you two have here," he commented coolly. "How kind of Professor McGonagall to hire you both again after the war."

"We were on the Order's side, after all," Civia replied calmly. "She offered us the jobs before we could consider any other options."

"On the Order's side…" Lucius mused, as though the words tasted foul. "Were you really?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," Severus replied. "We were. The whole time."

"Surely not," the Malfoy patriarch snorted.

"It's true," Civia maintained and glanced to Narcissa, who seemed most uncomfortable by the topic of their discussion.

Lucius peered at them both in distaste. "You're joking."

"No, we're not, Lucius," Severus snapped. "And you'd best get used to it. The war is over and Voldemort lost. We were lucky enough to be exonerated, and you were lucky enough to be pardoned because of Narcissa's actions during the battle. The war is over. Time to get used to the new world, Lucius."

The Malfoy patriarch sneered at them. "Well then, we'll be leaving. Narcissa!" he barked to his wife, making her jump, and turned to leave.

"I just wanted to thank you both for looking out for Draco," Narcissa said quietly to the spies. "Now and then. You've always tried to help him find his way."

Civia smiled gently to the nervous mother. "We always will."

Narcissa nodded gratefully and turned to follow her husband.

The door shut behind them loudly, and both spies let out a sigh of relief.

"Well," she began hesitantly.

Severus snorted loudly. "Reformed my ass."

"Matter of time before he does something else to get himself incarcerated in Azkaban," Civia added. "Poor Narcissa. Why does she stay with such a beast?"

"She loves him, unfortunately," Severus sighed. "And she's not one to give up on those she loves."

In that, she and Civia were alike then.

Still, she turned back to Severus, who had sat down slowly. "Oh, Severus I'm sorry. He was your best friend, wasn't he?"

"I thought he was," the Potions Master replied quietly. "I thought he'd accepted that the Death Eaters lost and was glad for it. I thought he'd changed."

Civia laid a hand on his shoulder softly, and said no more.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 **December 1995**

A silvery, swift raven woke all of the Order, screeching much like its real-life counterparts. After they were awake, a female voice urgently delivered a message. "Death Eaters to attack the Muggle Prime Minister! Number 10 Downing Street, London! Apparate! Hurry! Not much time!"

Only two people were certain who exactly the Patronus had come from, but none dared ignore it, all throwing on clothes and Apparating away.

* * *

Meanwhile the owner of the Patronus was amidst the attacking Death Eaters.

As the group of Dark witches and wizards Apparated into the historic home, storming past the feeble wards the Ministry for Magic had placed.

"I will find the filth," Civia spat. "Have fun for now—but remain downstairs. We wouldn't want to… _alert_ anyone to our presence. Yet."

The witch hurtled up the grand staircase of stone, her graceful, gloved hand trailing over the mahogany railing.

Civia had looked over plans and architecture plans for the Minister's home, and knew exactly where to go to find the owner of it.

Rushing to the master suite, she knocked heavily, urgently. After a few moments, the door opened to reveal a sleepy, confused Prime Minister, with his wife standing to join him.

"Prime Minister, I apologize for the intrusion, but there is an emergency. I trust Minister Fudge told you about wizards?"

The man in question blinked quickly, as if waking himself, before nodding. "Yes, but who are—"

"There isn't time," the spy said swiftly. "I'm from the Ministry for Magic! A group of dark wizards have infiltrated Downing Street and are—" A crash from downstairs interrupted her words, and she winced. "—downstairs! They intend to kill you and your family. You must come with me! I will take you to one of the Ministry for Magic's safe house!"

His wife spoke up, "Who are you? What _are_ you talking about?"

"No time!" she exclaimed, "Gather your daughters now, Minister, Madam! This is life or death!"

The Minister laid a hand on his wife's shoulder, exchanged a meaningful glance to her, and she nodded before hurrying down the hallway.

"Go!" Civia snapped. "I'll hold them off!"

Carefully, the Potions Mistress drew her wand and hurtled down the hallway, skirt rippling behind her in her wake. As she reached the ground floor, there was a multitude of _cracks_ of Apparition, and then she was in front of the entirety of the Order.

Their eyes were on her instantly as she hurtled down a side hall to where the other Death Eaters were, profanity falling from her lips from behind her mask.

The Order was on her tail as she led them to the Death Eaters. None realized it was her—not even Remus. They were nearly all here, save Albus and Minerva, who could not abandon Hogwarts' safety, and of course Sirius.

"The Order!" she screamed to the dark wizards and witches as she approached, throwing spells over her shoulder at said group.

Then the battle began.

Civia could only hope the Order protected the Prime Minister and his family—she knew said family included a few daughters, at the ages of twelve, five, and two years old.

She was pinned, as she ever was, between her false loyalties to the Death Eaters as she fired spell after spell at the Order, and her true allegiance to the Order and helping them.

It was precarious, like tightrope-walking on a knife blade's edge.

While some, like Bellatrix, threw out Unforgiveable after Unforgiveable, Civia only threw them when she knew she would miss. Her other spells, however, were fired at a deadly accuracy.

She found herself alone dueling Tonks and Remus. Both were excellent duelers in their own right.

But she was decisively better.

Unlike Civia, the others were not quite as skilled against the Order, and the Death Eaters were outnumbered.

Finally, she heard Rodolphus yell, "Disapparate!"

But as Civia turned to do so, a spell hit her in the side, fiery and painful, searing both her body and mind, as she crumpled to the ground, unconsciousness taking over.

* * *

"Hold your fire!" Snape was suddenly yelling, as the lone masked Death Eater went down, too slow to Apparate away before Mad-Eye had cursed them.

Without another word, the Potions Master scooped the unconscious figure up, and disapparated away.

Silence filled the room.

"Er. What…just happened?" Tonks asked after a moment, uncertain.

No one could give a sufficient answer.

* * *

It was an hour later in Grimmauld Place when Severus finally entered.

"You fools!" he spat, at the gathering of Order members. "You utterly blind, idiotic bumbling fools!"

Several pairs of eyes widened at the sight of his true ire. His robes were disheveled and bloodstained, his hair tangled, his face paler than usual.

"And what did we do this time, Severus?" asked Remus calmly.

"Mad-Eye nearly killed one of my spies!" the Potions Master spat. "The most valuable one, too!"

The former Auror stepped forward. "And I don't suppose you feel it necessary to—oh, I don't know—tell us who this spy is?"

"No."

"Then why should I feel bad about trying to kill Death Eater scum?" Moody growled.

"Because that _Death Eater scum_ , as you call him is our best chance at winning this war," Snape drawled, unfazed by the former Auror's ire, and turned to leave without another word, even as Moody shouted curses after him.

* * *

 **November 1998**

It was some days later that the two Potions Masters left the castle to shop for supplies in Hogsmeade.

They didn't notice the fellow with the camera following them as they went into the Three Broomsticks, Severus holding the door open chivalrously for Civia.

* * *

" _ROMANCE AT HOGWARTS?_

 _The Infamous Spies of Hogwarts on a Date in Hogsmeade_ "

 _By Rita Skeeter_

* * *

"Oh for Merlin's sake—I'm cancelling my subscription!"

"Now, now, Severus," she murmured lowly, in their sitting room. "It's not that bad."

The Potions Master glared, vitriolic. "Not that bad? They painted us as some soppy romantics!"

Civia rolled her eyes at his dramatics. "Worse things could be said about us, Severus. They could think we were plotting to overthrow the Ministry and restart the Death Eaters."

"It _is_ worse!" he shouted. "I'm used to those kind of accusations!"

She paused, suddenly hurt as a thought occurred to her. "Is being seen as dating me really that bad?"

"What?"

Severus looked up from where he'd been pacing. "No, don't be ridiculous," he snapped.

One eyebrow rose archly. "Oh, I'm being ridiculous?" she barked.

"Yes!" he shouted. "Are you not at all concerned about this libel?"

She glared. "Of course I am, Seve—"

"Then act like it!" he snapped. "Stop being a ridiculous, insecure little fool!"

Her lips thinned. Silence filled the sitting room, as both glared at the other.

"Well," she said, unsure of what to say next.

"Civia, I'm—"

"Don't," she snapped, then let her anger deflate. "It's alright. We're mad at Skeeter, not each other."

Severus nodded, looking sincerely apologetic. He knew she really was quite insecure. "I'm sorry, still," he said lowly.

She grinned. "An apology from Severus Snape! What a day!"

"Don't you take it for granted, witch!" he huffed, smirking.

"Now, shall we send Miss Skeeter a Howler?"

"Yes, I think that's a sensible solution."

Breakfast was decidedly awkward that morning.

Most students had subscriptions to the _Daily Prophet_ , so most saw the front page story right away. Those who didn't get the paper were soon told by their peers.

Civia and Severus swept into the hall together, as usual, and sat in their customary seats between Minerva on Severus' side and Filius on Civia's side.

"Oh my!" the Head of Ravenclaw squeaked upon opening the paper. "Er, Civia…? Not that it's any of my business…but—"

"You're right, it's not any of your business," Severus cut in sharply.

"Severus!" the Potions Mistress scolded, before turning to the half-goblin professor. "No, it's not true, Filius. Severus and I were picking up potions supplies in Hogsmeade when they apparently saw us."

Filius nodded in understanding. "That Skeeter woman always publishes lies, no one will believe her over you, don't you worry, my dear!"

She smiled slightly. "Thank you, Filius. We appreciate your support, but I rather doubt the students would believe it. It's best to let it play out until some bigger, juicier piece of gossip shows up."

* * *

Neither were exactly happy when Minerva called them into her office that evening after dinner.

The elder witch swept to in the tartan-covered armchair and motioned for them to seat themselves too around the fireplace.

"I believe you know why I called you here," she began ominously, before chuckling and asking, "Is it true?"

"What—no!" Severus barked.

Civia laughed heartily. "Honestly, Minerva. It's Skeeter. Since when has she ever published anything true?"

"Good point," the Headmistress agreed wearily. "I had to ask though."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Is that all you wanted to discuss?"

"I thought we might catch up a bit and chat, but if you need to do some marking—"

"I do, in fact," the Defense teacher stood, nodded to them both. "Forgive me, but I must tend to those essays. Good night, Minerva, Civia."

The witches echoed his goodnight and he left quickly.

"Pay no mind to him, Minerva," Civia offered quickly. "He's quite touchy about the subject."

"Always one to defend him, aren't you?"

Civia nodded solemnly. "Always."

Minerva grinned. "Are you sure there's no truth to Skeeter's article?" the Headmistress teased.

The Potions Mistress flushed. "Why does everyone ask that?" she groused.

"Well, when a witch and a wizard love each other—"

"Oh, shut it," Civia laughed. "Of course there's no truth to it."

The older witch hummed. "Bit of a pity, that."

"I'm—sorry?" Civia nearly choked. "What?"

"Well, it's a shame isn't it?" Minerva teased, lighthearted as students never saw. "Severus is a fine young man, a good man—and a talented wizard and genius Potions Master. He's quite the catch, even before one considers he's a war hero too."

Civia's lips thinned. "I suppose, yes."

"And he's looking much better these days, now that he's done spying—healthier, handsomer…"

"Yes," Civia hesitantly agreed.

"So why not?"

Civia stared, flummoxed. "Min, you can't be serious—he's my _friend_. My best friend, the closest friend I've ever had—the, the most important person in my life—"

The Headmistress' eyebrows rose. "You rather sound like you're describing a spouse rather than just a friend."

"He is just a friend!"

"And you two live together?"

She flushed brightly. "It's not like that, Min. We share a common space—a sitting room, kitchen, and library. We have separate bedrooms and baths. We just—well. I sleep better knowing he's near," she reluctantly admitted, but continued, ignoring Minerva's triumphant grin. "But we just stayed together in our old chambers because—after so long together, it'd be strange to be apart. That's all. And our books are quite mixed up in the library."

"Alright, alright," Minerva relented. "Just…don't dismiss the idea so quickly, alright, Civia?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

 **March 1996**

It was several months after the attack on Number Ten Downing Street that Civia was attending yet another general Order meeting. Nothing of note had occurred as of late, but it was good to check in with everyone, just to be sure.

Civia wasn't complaining. It would be good to see Sirius and Remus again—Tonks and Kingsley, too, of course, and the Weasleys.

The others didn't care for her much, if she was honest—not that they'd say as much to her face, but she wasn't a spy for nothing.

"Oh, Civia, come in!" Molly Weasley cried when she opened the door to see the Potions Mistress. "You're just in time for the meeting, we were getting worried!"

"No reason to worry, Mrs. Weasley," Civia offered as she stepped into Grimmauld Place and hung her cloak on the rack. "Not about me, anyways. You know I'm usually right on time."

"Yes, I know, dear, but that doesn't mean I don't worry," Molly tutted. "Come along, everyone is ready in the kitchen."

* * *

The meeting went about as expected, until they hit a little snag.

"What news from Severus?" asked Arthur Weasley.

Albus and Severus exchanged glances.

"What is it?" Moody growled.

Albus sighed. "I'm afraid Severus is no longer able to spy for us."

The uproar that followed was nearly enough to rouse Mrs. Black's portrait.

"What exactly do you mean?" Kingsley asked calmly.

"I was found out, some months ago," Severus explained patiently. "Thankfully another spy was able to inform us before I was summoned and I was able to avoid capture."

"We have another spy?" Remus asked. "Who?"

Again, the headmaster and Potions Master exchanged glances. "I'm afraid I cannot say," Albus replied. "His cooperation is contingent upon his privacy. He does not wish for anyone to know, save Severus and I."

"A wizard then." Civia pointedly noted. "Not a witch."

"Why can't we know then?" Sirius asked. "We knew about Snape. Why is this spy so different?"

"Our new master spy is in a…precarious position," Severus snapped. "Their identity is one of utmost secret."

"And we're supposed to trust a stranger?" Moody growled. "How do we know he won't betray us?"

The Headmaster sighed. "I'm afraid I can only ask you to trust my judgment, Alastor."

* * *

The Inner Circle meeting was not much better, according to Severus, as they did not let the topic drop so easily.

Civia was just glad she wasn't there for that.

* * *

 **December 1998**

After that faithful conversation with Minerva, things were different for Civia.

Not worse or better, just…different. She became aware of things that they did, things that normal people, normal friends didn't do.

Mainly, normal friends didn't spend every possible moment together—eating, talking, planning for classes, grading, shopping, harvesting potions ingredients, researching…everything except teaching and sleeping really.

So what would really be different if they did…

But no. She was not allowing herself to follow that train of thought, no matter how tempting it really was.

This was Severus Snape, after all. He didn't do _romance_ , save for one notable exception.

Yes, she knew about Lily Evans, later Potter.

She had known about it as a student, two years ahead of them. She had been a seventh year when the faithful "mudblood" incident occurred by the lake.

She hadn't realizes how strong his attachment to her was until one drunken night, a couple years ago, when he'd slurred out professions of love for Lily.

But Lily was dead, of course.

She couldn't compete with a ghost, even if she tried. Because, she reasoned, we idealize loved ones after their death; they become perfect.

Severus was no exception to this. Lily was firmly upon a pedestal in his eyes.

She couldn't compete with the dead woman, no matter how much she wanted to. Why bother trying?

* * *

It was nearly Christmas break when news of the Malfoys came in the form of a sleek and beautiful fox Patronus, which slipped into their sitting room gracefully. It looked to Severus and quickly began speaking as the pair looked up from their respective books and notes.

"Severus, Civia," it greeted them calmly in Narcissa's voice. "Could the two of you meet me outside the school gates? I'm afraid it is something of an emergency. Please rouse Draco too."

They exchanged nervous glances. Though fairly calm, there was something of a tremor in her voice—which, for Narcissa, was equal to tears.

"I'll fetch Draco," Civia decided, setting aside her notes. "You get Narcissa."

* * *

They met up in the former spies' chambers, the four of them together.

Draco went to his mother immediately, enraged. "Mother—who did this to you?" he demanded, looking at the bruises mottling one side of her face.

"I—it—" Narcissa inhaled sharply, calming and grounding herself, before continuing. "I'm afraid Lucius and I have been fighting for some time now, since the war's end. Tonight, it…it worsened. I'm afraid I'm leaving him."

"You're leaving Lucius?" Civia repeated. "What in the world happened? I thought—well. It doesn't matter what I thought."

"Mum—Father did this to you?" Draco demanded.

Slowly, Narcissa nodded.

"I'll kill him!" the boy exclaimed. "Where is he—I'll kill him!"

"Now, now, Draco," Severus offered. "Calm yourself. Your mother needs you now—needs you here with her, not rotting in Azkaban."

"Quite right, Severus," Narcissa nodded. "Please, Draco, don't do that."

"What exactly happened, Mum?" the boy asked.

"I—we were arguing, again. I wanted to rid the Manor of all the dark objects left of the Dark Lord, but he—Lucius didn't want to. He was still—planning. Things. Dark things, I don't know what exactly. We quarreled, it escalated. Worse than usual…then he left. I gathered my things, shrank them, and came here."

"Mum—I'm, I'm so sorry," Draco said quietly, holding her hand.

Say what you like about Draco, Civia thought, but you couldn't say he didn't love his mother.

"You are welcome to stay with us, Narcissa," Civia offered. "We have a spare room, once we clean it out, I'm sure it will be suitable for you, as long as you need it."

"Thank you," Narcissa said softly. "Thank you both."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 **June 17, 1996**

She hurtled through the halls, searching, searching, following the sounds of battle—curses thrown, Bellatrix's laughter, Lucius' drawling voice, other people's cries of pain—

"…race is run," she heard Lucius say. "Now hand me the prophecy like a good boy…"

So someone—Potter, most likely—had the prophecy—

"Let—let the others go, and I'll give it to you!" Potter retorted, desperation seeping from his tone. Yes, it was Harry bloody Potter alright.

Laughter was the Death Eaters' response.

"You are not in a position to bargain, Potter," snapped Lucius. "You see, there are ten of us, and only one of you…or hasn't Dumbledore ever taught you to count?"

"He's dot alone!" came a boy's shout, though his words were hampered by a broken nose. "He's still god be!"

Civia burst through the doors finally, into the Death Chamber. "And me!" she cried, as she watched a masked Death Eater grabbed the Longbottom boy.

Several of the Death Eaters' face curled in hatred at the sight of her, knowing what she was being "forced" to do for her cover.

"Little Civy!" cackled Bellatrix. "So good to see you too! And little baby Longbottom! What a treat for us. I've met your parents, boy!"

"I DOE YOU HAB!" Neville Longbottom roared.

And Civia took the distraction to fire Stunners at Bellatrix, who deflected it quickly, and Lucius, who ducked away.

Before she knew it, there were spells flying everywhere as she ducked and wove with grace around them, firing off her own in the process.

It wasn't long before the doors burst open once more and Mood, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, and Kingsley rushed in, firing their own spells and only adding to the melee.

She found herself dueling Bellatrix with Tonks, dodging Cruciatus after Cruciatus, deflecting Killing Curse after Killing Curse.

"Tonks, help the boys!" she cried, shoving the Auror away towards Harry and Neville, who were being accosted by Lucius.

She heard Remus and Tonks shouting to Harry, something about the other students.

Somehow, above the noise of the fighting, she heard the sound of glass shattering, as a pearly figure arose from dust, and she knew the prophecy was lost.

Civia heard a shout, " _DUBBLEDORE!_ " and turned to see Albus in the doorway, rushing in.

The room seemed to fall into silence at his appearance, and the Potions Mistress abruptly realized that she and Bellatrix were the only ones left dueling.

"Look out, Civy!" cried a voice, and she was shoved to the floor, just as a curse flew over her head.

Sirius took up the duel with Bellatix, just as a curse hit him in the chest, and he lost his balance, falling gracefully backwards…through the Veil.

"NO!" she screamed, just as Harry began screaming, fighting Remus, who was holding him back from the Veil.

She shot to her feet, throwing curse after furious curse towards Bellatrix, who fought back viciously.

He couldn't be gone—he couldn't—he wasn't—

But he was.

Sirius was dead.

She knew it in her heart of hearts, that her dear friend was dead. She'd worked in the Department of Mysteries, she _knew_ about that Veil.

She knew what passing through it meant.

Bellatrix let out a victorious cackle, surely taunting her about the loss of her friend, but Civia did not hear a word the witch said.

A curse flew her way, one she could not block—and her world went black.

* * *

She woke up in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, with Madam Pomfrey hovering nearby.

"Poppy?" she slurred, becoming conscious of the pain radiating throughout her chest and abdomen in slow waves. "What…happ'n'd?"

The mediwitch sighed as she came to her patient's bedside.

"You were in the Ministry, the Department of Mysteries, I believe, and interrupted a battle between Death Eaters and several students, according to Albus," Poppy replied calmly. "Bellatrix Lestrange cursed you and you passed out. I don't suppose you remember the incantation she used?"

Her memory was foggy at best. "I don't…know. No, sorry, I don't. Everything was…blurred. I don't—Sirius. Sirius fell through the Veil and died…"

Were she a lesser spy, tears would prickle at the corners of her eyes. As it is, she was deathly calm and reserved.

The mediwitch sighed again. "Well, whatever you were cursed with, so was Miss Granger. Though it appears that whoever cursed her did so nonverbally, thereby saving her some pain and misfortune. You on the other hand, Civia. Well. You've been out for a week, and Severus has been brewing potion after potion for you."

Ah.

"I'll have to thank him," she murmured absently.

Didn't she always?

* * *

 **December 1998**

Christmas passed slowly and awkwardly for Civia.

Usually, Christmas was a break, a respite for Severus and herself. Even the Dark Lord seemed to have wanted some peace for himself during the wartime holidays.

Lucius apparently would have no such compunctions.

And so their usual routine Christmas was disrupted—though Civia would hardly use the word—by Narcissa's presence in their chambers.

Minerva had been notified about the witch's presence and had given her permission for Narcissa to stay as long as necessary.

Come Christmas morning, Civia found herself in the sitting room with Severus, Narcissa, and Draco.

It was only a bit awkward at first, really, and that was because of Civia.

Severus had been a friend to the Malfoys for years, really, and was Draco's godfather. He was a dear and trusted friend to Narcissa.

Civia, on the other hand, felt like an outsider in her own home. She did not belong with this little makeshift family that they had created.

She was not a friend of Narcissa's, not really. Despite that Narcissa had entrusted her with Draco's safety during the boy's sixth year, they were not close. She'd barely spoken to the witch during the wars, too preoccupied with her husband, and afterwards had been a mess. Narcissa had known for many years that Lucius had been sleeping with Civia frequently during the wars, and while she had understood that "what Lucius wants, Lucius gets" (as she once phrased it to Civia), it did not make for the foundation of a steady friendship.

Still, she did her best to ensure they felt welcome in their little home in Hogwarts. She had purchased a cashmere scarf for Narcissa, and a new, somewhat uncommon Potions book for Draco, as it was the boy's favorite subject.

They in turn had given her a new, elegantly made glass stirring rod for her potions.

Their guests were at ease with Severus, so she did her best to allow the three time together, making for plenty of time in the lab or wandering the grounds.

There were times that she wondered. Watching them, watching Severus and Narcissa interact, she wondered…

But it was none of her business, Civia decided, and firmly chose to stop wondering.

It didn't really work.

* * *

"I just don't understand it, Minerva," she said to the Headmistress on Boxing Day.

"What don't you understand?" the older witch asked, sitting in a tartan armchair in front of the fireplace in her office.

Civia sighed. "You know as well as I that Lily Evans—Lily Potter—was his reason for changing loyalties in the war. He was—is?—in love with her, even after she died. I know this. I've known it for so long, but…"

"But?"

"But…there are times I wonder if that love has faded, if he's moved on," she murmurs. "Then this happens."

Minerva leaned forward, concerned. "What happened?"

Civia explained about Severus and Narcissa, how close they seemed.

Once she finished her tale, Minerva laughed. "Oh my dear, you don't honestly think there's something going on between them, do you?"

"I—maybe," she mumbled.

"Then ask him."

* * *

"Severus?"

He didn't even look up from his book. "Hmm?"

"May I ask you something…personal?"

This time, his eyes flew up to meet hers, confused by her hesitation; she had never hesitated to ask him questions before. "Yes?"

"Are you and Narcissa—involved?" she eventually sighed. "Or, rather, do you want to be involved with Narcissa?"

He snorted at the ridiculous thought. "What brings this inquiry on?"

"You've just been awfully close lately."

"She is one of my oldest, most sincere friends," he explained calmly. "She's like an older sister to me. That aside, she's still in love with Lucius."

Ah.

Civia hadn't been sure if Narcissa really loved Lucius, and had erred on the side of doubt; she had assumed incorrectly then.

But if Narcissa really had loved Lucius, then that explained the witch's hurt and pain at this, well, betrayal.

It would take time to get over such a thing. Which meant that Narcissa was in no position to even begin thinking of a new relationship.

"Ah," she murmured. "But that doesn't answer my second question."

"I repeat," Severus replied patiently, "She's like an older sister to me. Very dear, very close—but platonic. I couldn't imagine seeing her in that light."

"Oh."

Well then.

"Does that answer your questions?"

She nodded. "Yes. Forget I asked, and forgive me for my prying."

"Already forgiven and forgotten," the Defense professor nodded.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

 **Mid August 1996**

They were bottling potions for the hospital wing when it happened. Fawkes appeared with a loud cry and a flash of flames.

"Fawkes? What—"

"What is it, bird—"

The phoenix landed on Civia's shoulder, and grabbed at Severus' cloak with his beak, and they were surrounded by flames.

When the fire disappeared, the Potions masters found themselves in the headmaster's office.

Albus was slumped on his desk, a ring and the Sword of Gryffindor before him.

Severus swooped into action, drawing his wand and checking the headmaster's vitals.

"What happened?" she cried as she saw his right hand—blackened and burned.

"The ring—" Severus barked. "Move it—don't touch it!"

Carefully, she levitated the ring away from Albus' hand, further aside on the desk. The dark stone was cracked—by the Sword, she assumed curiously.

Together, they worked, muttering incantations and spells. Eventually, they Summoned various potions ingredients and cauldrons, eventually concocting a potion they hoped would heal him, or at the least, contain the curse to his hand.

Eventually, Albus stirred, sitting up slowly.

"Why?" Severus immediately demanded. " _Why_ did you put on that ring? It carries a curse, surely you realize that. Why even touch it?"

He grimaced. "I…was a fool. Sorely tempted…"

"Tempted by what?" Civia asked gently.

"Don't coddle him!" Severus snapped to her, before looking back to the headmaster. "It was a miracle you managed to return here! That ring carried a curse of extraordinary power, to contain it is all we can hope for; I have trapped the curse in one hand for the time being—"

Slowly, Albus examined his useless hand with an air of utter detachment.

"You have both done well. How long do you think I have?"

Severus hesitated, glancing to Civia, who grimaced. "I cannot tell," he replied. "Maybe a year. There is no halting such a spell forever. It will spread eventually, it is the sort of curse that strengthens over time."

Civia coughed and hesitantly spoke up. "We could always cut it off, Albus. It might halt the curse, if we amputate below the elbow."

"Even that only has a chance of success," Severus replied grimly.

Albus smiled. "I am fortunate, extremely fortunate, that I have you two."

"If you had only summoned us earlier, we might have been able to do more, buy you more time!" Severus snapped again. "Did you think that breaking the ring would break the curse?"

"Something like that…I was delirious, no doubt," Albus replied, shaking his head. "Well, really, this makes matters much more straightforward."

"Sorry?"

"I refer to the plan Lord Voldemort is revolving around me. His plan to have the poor Malfoy boy murder me."

Severus sat down heavily in the chair in front of the office, while Civia leant against the desk itself, dreading this conversation.

"Draco is not expected to succeed, Albus," Civia said sadly. "This is punishment for Lucius, slow torture for him and Narcissa, to watch him try and fail."

"In short, the boy has had a death sentence pronounced upon him as surely as I have," Albus replied. "Now, I should have thought the natural successor to the job, once Draco fails, is yourself, Civia?"

"I think…I think that is his plan," the Potions Mistress reluctantly replied, and her heart went cold when she realized what he would ask of her. "Albus—no, you can't possibly think—"

"Lord Voldemort foresees a moment in the near future when he will not need a spy at Hogwarts?"

"…he believes the school will soon be under his control, yes."

"And if it does fall under his control, I have your word that you will do all in your power to protect the students at Hogwarts?"

Both nodded stiffly.

"Good," he murmured. "In the meantime, we will need your help here at Hogwarts."

Silence fell.

"I'm sorry, I thought I was already fine here at Hogwarts—"

"Will you teach?"

Civia blinked. "Albus, I couldn't—I couldn't teach Defense, I'm not half so good at it as Severus—"

"Which is why I mean for you to take over Potions."

"Headmaster?" Severus looked up, hesitantly hopeful.

"Will you do it, Civia?"

How could she deny him this? How could she deny Severus the chance to finally teach his favorite subject?

"I—of course."

"Excellent. "Now then, Civia, your first priority will be to discover what Draco is up to. A frightened teenage boy is a danger to others as well as himself. Offer him help and guidance, he ought to accept, he likes you—"

"—much less since his father lost favor. Draco blames me for it all, thinks I have orchestrated it—"

"All the same, try. I am concerned less for myself than for accidental victims of whatever schemes might occur to the boy. Ultimately, of course, there is only one thing to be done if we are to save him from Lord Voldemort's wrath."

"You can't mean for me—"

"Yes, Civia. _You_ must kill me."

"Would you like us to do it now, or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?" Severus sneered.

"Oh, not quite yet," Albus smiled fondly. "I daresay the moment will present itself in due course. Given what has happened tonight, we can be sure it will happen within a year."

"If you don't mind dying, why not let Draco do it?" Severus snapped.

"The boy's soul is not yet so damaged," Albus replied, calm as ever. "I would not have it ripped apart on my account."

"And Civia's soul, Dumbledore? Hers?"

"Only you two know whether it will harm Civia's soul to help an old man avoid pain and humiliation. I ask this one great favor of you, Civia, because death is coming for me as surely as the Chudley Cannons will finish bottom of this year's league. I confess I should prefer a quick, painless exit to the protracted and messy affair it will be if, for instance, Greyback is involved—I hear Voldemort has recruited him? Or dear Bellatrix, who likes to play with her food before she eats it."

Severus stared at Civia, at a loss for words, silently begging her not to agree.

But what could she do?

So she nodded and sealed her fate.

* * *

 **January 1999**

It was before term resumed that Civia overheard a peculiar conversation after dinner between several of the older students regarding their past Defense teachers. When she returned to their rooms, she found Severus going over some research notes, while Narcissa was out on a walk with Draco.

"Sev?" she spoke up. "I overheard the strangest thing after dinner. Something about a dueling club some years ago that you were involved in?"

The Defense master snorted loudly. "It was led by that fool Lockhart when he was a teacher, I merely assisted."

"Well, I was thinking…wouldn't it be interesting to start that up again?"

Severus looked up, a smirk slowly curling his lips.

Not a week later, they sent out the notices to the Head Boy, Head Girl, and prefects after getting Minerva's approval.

* * *

The first Monday night of the school year found them in a room near the Defense classroom, setting up for the club with several prefects and the Head Girl—Hermione Granger, of course.

Soon, students were filtering in an hour after dinner, all chatting eagerly amongst themselves, excited for such an event, led by the legendary spies of Hogwarts.

"Is that it, Professors?" Granger asked, brushing her hair back into a bun. "I think it's all set up, don't you think?"

"Yes, Miss Granger, it is suitable," Severus replied calmly. "Thank you and the prefects for your assistance. Ten points apiece for your help."

The look on Granger's face—what a thought—Snape giving Gryffindor points!

It nearly made Civia laugh aloud. As it was, she was a bit too collected to allow her amusement show.

"Shall we start?" Severus asked. "It's three past the hour."

"May as well," she nodded, and turned to address the crowd of eager students.

Before she could speak, however, Severus barked, " _Silence!_ " And silence, indeed, fell.

"Thank you, Severus." Civia smiled faintly, turning again to the students. "Welcome to the first weekly meeting of the newly reinstated Dueling Club! Professor Snape and I shall be co-leading the club, with goals to further your abilities in dueling and defense, should you require such skills. Any questions before we begin? Yes, Miss Jenkins?"

"Will we be learning the Disarming Charm—the one that Harry Potter used to defeat You-Know-Who?"

"Our first lesson, Miss Jenkins," Civia nodded. "Any others? Mister Collins?"

"Will you and Professor Snape be giving a demonstration?"

Other students nodded eagerly, looking to them pleadingly.

"You're here to learn for yourselves, not to watch a couple of old spies fight," she snorted.

"Watch who you call old," Severus quipped from her left.

The students' eyes grew wide at the realization that ol' Snape was joking, and Civia laughed. "Sorry, sorry.

"So no, Mister Collins. Maybe another time. If you all practice hard enough, perhaps we shall reward you with a demonstration."

Whispers spread through the crowd at this. Most of the veterans of the Battle of Hogwarts were present, and most of them had seen the spies fight in the battle; they had been wondrous and awe-inspiring to watch. To get a chance to watch again—to watch them face off too—what a sight that would be!

"Now, shall we begin?"

* * *

"That went well."

"It went surprisingly well," the Defense professor agreed softly as they re-entered their sitting room that night. "No one hurt themselves."

"It was just Disarming, Severus!" she chuckled. "Not real dueling, despite what my nephew might think."

Severus snorted at that. "The boy has a particular fondness for that spell, doesn't he?"

"Tea?" she asked.

"I'll get it," he replied, going into the kitchenette to boil the water. Soon, he returned with the pot and set it down on the table to let the tea steep. "He's inspired a whole new generation's favorite spell, I think."

"I believe you're right," Civia smiled. "They were very excited to practice. It was nice to have the older students there to help—the, what were they, the DA?"

"Dumbledore's Army, yes," Severus hummed. "They were…helpful."

"Don't sound so pained to say it," she teased. "And you giving Granger points earlier—it was just to see the look on her face, wasn't it?"

"You caught me," he replied dryly with a smirk. "All the school gapes whenever I give Gryffindor points, or take points away from Slytherin. Even the first years."

"You're legendary, Professor Snape!" she crowed, laughing.

"As if you aren't," he sniffed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

 **Heed the trigger warnings and tags for this chapter, please.**

 **WARNING FOR SPOILERS IN TRIGGER WARNINGS, which have been placed at the end of the chapter.**

 **September 1, 1996**

September first found Civia at Hogwarts, this time attending the Welcoming Feast, between Minerva's empty chair and Severus.

The students filed in loudly, chatting amongst themselves.

They were so used to new teachers that no one spared her a second glance. No one, that is, except the trio of Gryffindors.

After the Sorting Hat's Song—original as ever, Civia noted, though it seemed as foreboding as it had when Voldemort rose to power in her later Hogwartian years—Minerva began the Sorting. Politely clapping for each one, Civia allowed her eyes to wander across the students.

Many were hardly paying the Sorting any mind, rather glancing at her curiously now. Distinctively, several students within her sights snickered to their friends and gestured something about her height…but some of them were distinctly referring to other parts of her anatomy, reminding her again of the hormones of teenagers.

Soon enough, all students were at their appropriate tables, and Albus stood. Respectful silence fell, and the headmaster cheerfully announced, "As always, there is a time and place for a speech, but that is neither here nor now. On with the feast."

The seasonal gasps of surprise followed as first years jumped as food bloomed onto the table like spring flowers.

Having finished, she returned to observing the students, who were all chatting cheerfully to friends, catching up over the summer, with ghost drifting here and there, including her own old House ghost, the Grey Lady. _Hm, I might have to say hello to her…_

Eventually, the food had vanished, and Albus stood, silence falling abruptly.

"The very best of evenings to you!" he said, smiling cheerfully, his arms open wide as if to embrace the entire room.

A collective gasp echoed in the hall, eyes stuck on the Headmaster's cursed hand.

"Nothing to worry about," he said in a placating manner. "Now…to our new students welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you, but before we continue on to bed, I have a few announcements to make.

"Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes.

"Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Head of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise.

"This year, we are pleased to have a new member of the staff this year," Albus turned infinitesimally and motioned for her to rise, "Please welcome Professor Civia Potter…"

"Potter?"

"Wait, like Harry?"

"Who's—"

"—of Harry's?"

"Potter?"

Murmurs filled the hall, but Albus continued, raising his voice, "…who has consented to take up the post of Potions Mistress."

"Potions?" That echoed through the hall, still echoing with her surname, as if wondering if they needed their hearing checked. " _Potions_?"

"Meanwhile, Professor Snape will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"No!" came a loud, angry exclamation from a boy at the Gryffindor table, and Civia didn't have to look to know it was Harry, who had inherited James and Sirius' hatred for the Slytherin. She knew what he thought of Severus.

What he would think of her, however, was another question entirely.

* * *

 **February 1999**

Before she knew it, January had passed and it was nearly Valentine's Day, which meant that a Hogsmeade visit was in order.

In the Room of Requirement one evening, Civia and Severus had dueled to decide which of the two would chaperone. Civia had narrowly lost after ten minutes of vicious dueling.

Which meant that while Severus was peacefully brewing in the dungeons, Civia was forced out in the snow, bundled up in a thick coat and cloak, to look after the students.

The good thing about it being February, however, was that most students were now used to this new freedom and were not likely to need her. Meaning she was okay to simply patrol the main street once before heading into the Three Broomsticks for a warm drink.

Before she got there, however, she was distracted by a figure hiding itself quickly in the alley behind the pub.

Thinking it students with plans for mischief, she marched back there, ready to chastise a few miscreants.

Only to come face to face with Lucius Malfoy, whose wand was raised and pointed to her. "Not another move, Civia. Not one, or my hand just might…slip."

"Lucius," she spat, teeth bared. "What do you want?"

"Where is my wife?" he demanded.

"That's what you're here about?" she asked. "Narcissa?"

"I know she came to you and Severus after our fight," he murmured lowly, wand coming to rest just above her collarbone. "I want you to tell me where she is."

Civia sneered. "So you can continue beating the poor witch? I don't think so, you bastard. Why would I help you?"

"Careful, now, Civia," Lucius hissed. "I'm not working alone, now. And you just might want to hear my incentives before rejecting my offer."

Her throat tightened. "Incentives?"

"You tell me where she is, and Snape gets to live."

"You're bluffing." Civia's lip curled. "As if you could hurt him. He's thrice the wizard you are."

Lucius shot forward, grabbing her by the throat and shoving her against the building. "Careful, now, Civia. You know my temper. Now. Give me your wand."

"Right sleeve of my coat," she gritted out, knowing it was better to surrender her wand. She still had a little wandless magic, maybe it would be enough—

He yanked at her sleeve until the wand was in his hands. Quickly, before she could react, he snapped it over his knee. Civia yowled in fury, jumping toward him, only to be pinned against the wall.

A Silencing Charm washed over her, stealing the voice from her throat mid screech.

"I'll ask you once more. Tell me where Narcissa is."

Vehemently, she shook her head and spat at his feet.

"Well then," he grinned. "I get to have fun."

She quickly found herself pinned, face first, to the building by his magic. His cold hands swept her cloak aside and to the ground, before diving under the layers of her clothes.

Civia would have struggled if she could, but she could barely breathe thanks to whatever binding spell he was using.

His hands were frigid as he shoved her trousers and knickers down to her ankles, and her jumper and brassiere to the side so as to free her breasts.

 _No_.

The thought echoed in her mind.

Those days were past for her, she was done with this, she hadn't—she couldn't be—he wouldn't—

He was.

His cock was soon out, shoved inside her, burning inside her frigid body.

No, no—those days were over. She had sworn off sex—she couldn't be—he was, oh Merlin, he was raping her.

Before—during the wars—it had been questionable, yes, but it had been consensual. All of it, despicable as it was.

Even that first time when she was sixteen and had lost her virginity to the then-engaged man assaulting her now—it had been consensual.

She had never been raped during the wars.

How ironic, really, she thought as she choked on a silent sob—to be raped after the war's end…

Lucius was muttering things, saying vile things, but she couldn't hear any of it.

Oh, Merlin—this couldn't be happening. It couldn't—not to her. She was stronger than this, stronger than him—but still, she was immobilized and silenced by his spellwork.

Soon, it was over, and he was pulling away, fluids leaking from her body as he did.

"Little slut," he muttered as he cleaned himself and fixed his clothes.

He muttered a spell, and she collapsed into the snow, barely clothed from his reaching, grasping, ripping hands.

With a silent cry, she rolled over, acutely aware of the pain in her lower abdomen, as well as the scent of fresh blood.

" _Crucio_."

Not this, anything but this—she'd almost prefer the rape to continue than for this again. She screamed, though no sound escaped her bitten-through lips.

Oh, Merlin—hours, it was hours that it happened, and she could think of nothing but the pain bleeding through her body, coursing through her veins like poison.

Eventually, her strength gave out, and she passed into unconsciousness.

* * *

Hermione Granger was meeting with Harry and Ron in the Three Broomsticks, with Ginny, Neville, and Luna there too.

It was nice to spend the day with her boyfriend. Her boyfriend. Even in the months that had passed since the battle, she couldn't quite believe that Ron had finally pulled his head out of his—well. She couldn't believe it.

Everything was going so well.

Harry and Ginny were happy. Neville and Luna were…well, she assumed they were happy too, even if they weren't dating (yet).

Her classes were going well, even Defense with Professor Snape. (She still couldn't believe it whenever he gave her points.) She was Head Girl, a dream of hers since she was a first year.

Even the nightmares were getting better, getting easier to deal with, thanks to the weekly group therapy sessions that Professor Potter had started.

Things were better.

That's what she was thinking as their group exited the Three Broomsticks so the students could begin to head back to the castle…when a shadow in the alley caught her eye.

"What's tha— _Professor_?"

"Hermione, what're you—Merlin's beard!"

"Oh my—what happened to her?"

" _Civia!_ "

Civia Potter was laying in the snow, barely clothed at all, body twisted in a surely uncomfortable way. Her hair was everywhere, and so was the blood. The blood covered her groin, her face, and colored the snow beneath her. Her bloody lips were blue.

Harry ran forward, shaking her shoulder, until he saw that she still breathed.

"Harry, she needs help!" Hermione cried.

"Ron, get the Aurors!" Harry barked. "Neville, Luna, get Healers from S. Mungo's—I'm afraid to move her. Hermione, tell McGonagall! Send your Patronus!"

Harry swept off his cloak, clumsily wrapped his aunt in it, and waited.

* * *

 **Warnings for Rape and Torture.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

 **September 1996**

Her first class, interestingly, was with the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins.

Why on earth those two houses were always paired up for classes, Civia wasn't sure, but she didn't like it.

Timidly, the small students came into the room, seating themselves, speaking in soft whispers, clearly nervous and frightened for their first class in their magical education. They seemed confused by the layout of the desks and chairs, all arranged in a circle in the large classroom around a single, large cauldron in the very center of the room.

When the bell rang, she set her quill down and rolled up the piece of parchment she'd been writing on. With the students silently watching her, she went to the window and gave the scroll to a school owl lingering outside, and turned her attention to the attentive class.

All were sitting ramrod straight in their seats, books out, as well as quills and parchment. Anxiety and unease was upon every face.

She chuckled to herself but spoke reassuringly as she smiled kindly to them. "If any of you have heard rumors of a horribly despicable Potions professor, you needn't be nervous. That was Professor Snape's reputation." They breathed a sigh of relief, the tension draining slightly from their stiff postures.

"I am Professor Potter," she introduced herself, "And, hopefully, I will be better than my predecessor at this. I'm new to Hogwarts as well," she said, trying to offer a bit of comfort, then amended, "at least, as a teacher. This is my first year, so I suppose I'm a bit like you. I need to get used to it and everyone.

"Now, if any of you are of wizarding parents, you know what potions are. You've seen them, I'm sure, and probably have taken a couple. But if you are muggleborn, don't worry," she soothed, "Think of Potions as a cooking class: you prepare ingredients, put them together, and it is drunk by another, if it is well made. Though the results in here will certainly be more magical than in a kitchen.

"But unlike typical food, Potions are something incredibly unique. You do not need to be magically talented—or magical at all—as long as your ingredients have already been properly collected. You don't need a wand…for now at least. Should you advance to the NEWT level, you may.

"Every potion is unique. Each has different ingredients or a different brewing process. Each has unique effects. Each has different appearances, textures, scents, and tastes.

"For our first potions class, we will be making a very simple potion to cure boils and other stubborn forms of acne.

"Now, if you turn to page twenty in your textbook, who would like to read the first step?"

An eager pink-faced girl raised her hand. "What's your name?" Civia asked.

"Angela Green," she replied enthusiastically.

"Alright, Angela, go ahead."

"One – Heat cauldron until base of Agrippa turns red."

Civia nodded, "Would you care to demonstrate, here?" She motioned to the cauldron in the center of the room, as she sat on the edge of her desk, which was included in the circle of desks. The little blond-brown haired girl bounced from her seat to the cauldron, set it up and waited…

"Very good. Two points for your house."

At the third step, a boy—Mark Hatcher—poured the appropriate amount of flobberworm mucus in, until the potion was pink, and so on and so forth, until a Slytherin girl added porcupine quills.

"Do any of you know why you must take the cauldron off the fire before you add the quills?" the Potions Mistress asked.

"If you don't, you'll get boils all over when it melts the cauldron!" exclaimed a girl.

"Correct. Five points for your house."

When the finished the potion, Civia filled a small vial of it, corked it, and held it up to inspect it.

"Well done, class," she said, causing many to beam with pride. "Now, next class, you'll be brewing this potion in pairs. Having done it already, it should be easy.

"I hate to say this, but it is essential. You won't be getting much homework for a while, though, if you will open your textbook to page thirteen, you will see a small list of different categories of potions: brew, concoction, draught, elixir, philter, poison, and tincture. I want all of you to flip through the text and find an example of each of these and explain why it is so. For example…the Draught of Living Death. What makes it specifically a draught?

"This will be due next class, but should be fun and easy enough."

They all looked fairly eager at the easy assignment.

"Now, gather your belongings if you haven't because the bell should ring in…three…two—" She was cut off by the bell.

"Have a good day, everyone!" she called as they filed out, chattering animatedly about the lesson.

The next first year class—Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws—went just as well.

* * *

 **February 1999**

Severus was not, by nature, a possessive man.

So he was a little covetous about his possessions, guarded about his living space, and private about his personal life.

He was, however, a protective man.

He'd been protective of his battered mother until her death. He'd been extremely protective of Lily, who had been his only friend as a boy—from trying to protect her from the attention of James bloody Potter, to trying to protect her from the Dark Lord. He'd even been protective of thrice-damned Harry Potter during the boy's years at Hogwarts and the war.

He had been protective of Civia since day one of their partnership, ever since learning of her position as a spy.

(The Potter family, he'd long ago realized, would be the death of him.)

As the years had passed and they had grown closer, he only became more protective of her. She was the closest friend he had—closer than Lily, closer than Minerva, closer than Albus, and easily closer than the Malfoys, even now. (Especially now.)

During the war, this protective nature was helpful in ways. As Civia's handler, it helped, certainly. Now that the war was over, it was rather distracting at times.

He worried for her often. Worried that she'd be harmed by a wayward spell in the Dueling Club. Worried that she'd be hurt in a potions accident in one of her classes. Worried that one day her nightmares and anxiety attacks would happen when he couldn't help her anymore.

Oh yes, Severus Snape worried.

He had not, however, worried about her acting as chaperone for the students' Hogsmeade visit.

He should have.

If he'd known, he would have thrown the duel and lost purposefully. He'd have locked her in their rooms to keep her safe.

As it was, he had not known.

* * *

He was writing an article for _Ars Alchemica_ when Minerva came pounding on the door to their sitting room.

"What is it, you infernal woman? What do you—" he demanded but stilled and fell silent when he saw the look on her pale face. "What is it? What happened?"

"Civia was attacked in Hogsmeade. Her nephew and his friends found her in the alley near the Three Broomsticks—"

"Where is she?" the Defense professor demanded immediately.

"They took her to St. Mungo's."

* * *

When Civia woke, it was to an aching body. Everything hurt, especially her head and pelvic area.

Memories came flooding in quickly, and she hissed at the recollection of the attack.

"Civia?"

She opened her eyes to find a familiar scene: Severus, sitting at her bedside, just as he had done so often while she recovered after the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Severus."

"Do you remember what happened?"

Slowly, she nodded, resisting the urge to tremble. "I remember."

"The Healers have questions—and the Aurors, too."

"Oh, Merlin—please tell me no one told Harry."

Severus frowned. "I was told he was among the group that found you."

"Fuck," she cursed. "Alright. Go get the Healers, please."

* * *

After the Healers came the Aurors. Among them, Harry and Ronald, who had apparently used all their influence and sway in the department to be put on the case.

She protested their presence. "You don't want to hear this, Harry," she told him sternly. "Though I really do appreciate your concern—please, don't make me do this."

"Civia, you know if I'm not here, then the others will just tell me what you said later," he tried to reason with her.

Did the boy not understand it was an attempt to retain some dignity?

Apparently not.

"Fine," she whispered, reaching for Severus' hand to steady herself emotionally.

"I was walking to the Three Broomsticks when I saw him. I thought it was just a couple of troublemaking students, so I went to chastise them—but found him instead."

"Who was it, Civia?" Severus asked, deathly pale as he held her hand, waiting for the confirmation of his assumption.

"He—he wanted information. He threatened Severus at first, thinking that bluff would scare me. It didn't.

"He took my wand—and he just snapped it over his knee like it was a mere twig, tossing it aside. After that, he, he pinned me to the wall by some spell."

"And then, Miss Potter?" the lead Auror prompted, causing Severus to send him a withering look for his impatience.

She shuddered, actually shuddered. "Do I have to say it? He—he raped me. When he was done, he fixed his clothes and used the Cruciatus curse on me. I'd say at least half an hour, going by my previous experience. I was Silenced the whole time.

"I blacked out, bleeding and practically naked in the snow. That's all I remember."

"Who. Was. It."

"You know, Severus," she whispered. "It was him."

Without another word, he stood and swept from the wing.

"Aunt Civia," Harry said, grabbing her hand. "Who was it? You have to tell us. Please."

"…Lucius. Lucius Malfoy."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

 **September 1996**

After lunch, she had her Double sixth years class. Apprehension rolled in her stomach, as she knew her nephew would be there. Nevertheless, she was calm to any eye save perhaps Severus'.

It was an even class—only twenty-two students, a nice number for her. Seven Gryffindors, six Slytherins, five Ravenclaws, and four Hufflepuffs made up the class—twelve boys and ten girls.

The desks had returned to their usual location after the first year class. Everything was spotless and clean.

From her private laboratory, Civia had brought out several already full, small cauldrons and set them up in front of her desk.

Slowly, cautiously, the students drifted into the room. Some of the first were her nephew and his two friends—the gangly redheaded Weasley, Ronald, and Hermione Granger.

When the bell rang, she stood from her desk and went to the front of her class.

"Hello, everyone," she started, smiling, trying to make a good impression—especially upon her nephew. "As you know, I am Professor Potter, and I shall be your Potions Professor."

Harry raised his hand sheepishly. "Er—Professor, Ron and I haven't got our books or anything—we didn't realize we'd be able to do the NEWT, you see—"

"Ah yes," she interrupted, smiling, "I believe Professor McGonagall spoke to me about that."

She looked back to her desk, flicked a hand, and two similar stacks floated from her desk to the boys. The textbook— _Advanced Potion Making_ —was in the stack, as well as the NEWT potion ingredients kit and a pair of scales. Surprised glances were exchanged all around the room.

Civia continued, "For your first NEWTs class in Potions, I brought out a few of the potions I've been making lately to show you what you all should be able to brew after passing your NEWT exam.

Stepping beside the first cauldron, she asked, "Any guesses what this one is?" The slow-bubbling, mudlike potion was not unheard of, but rarely used nowadays. A few hands hit the air, three of which were Harry and his friends.

"Yes?" she asked.

"It's Polyjuice Potion, ma'am!" exclaimed the brunette between Harry and Ronald, who shared a grin.

Smiling, she nodded. "Very good, Miss Granger. Five points," she said, causing the girl to beam.

Civia nodded to herself, but motioned to the next, seemingly full of plain water. "And this, anyone?"

"Veritaserum," supplied the slick blond-haired Slytherin boy. Draco Malfoy, she knew. He looked exactly as Lucius Malfoy had in their school years, with only a hint of Narcissa's regal Black family features in his face.

"And it is?"

"The most powerful truth serum in the world."

"Five points, to you as well."

As she motioned to the next, a curly brown haired Gryffindor girl promptly exclaimed, "Amortentia!"

Civia chuckled. "You all would best be off far away from this potion as possible. For those of you not aware, Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world, recognizable as its characteristic steam spirals and its scent, which varies upon what attracts you most."

For her, the Amortentia smelled of old books, fresh sandalwood, and rain.

She continued on, showing them the Felix Felicis and Draught of Living Death, the latter of which they eventually were instructed to brew.

After about ten minutes, the room was filled with slightly blue-tinted steam.

Civia walked around the room, offering suggestions, corrections, and praise. Granger was very efficient with her potion, having one of the best in the class.

The class went well. The bell rang, and everyone filed out, delighted at the end of the school day.

Harry stayed, his two friends lingering too, unwilling to let him alone in these dangerous times. "You may stay," she acquiesced, and they looked relieved. "Come into my office, the three of you."

They trailed in after her into her office.

It had been a dank, dim, gloomy office when she arrived. Its walls had been completely covered in jars of potions ingredients—most had been taken, and all of those left behind far, far past their expiration dates. An interesting, effective scare tactic of Snape's.

She had vanished them instantly, though she kept the shelving for her own ingredients on one wall. Filling the cabinets of the opposite wall were multitudes of potions—healing potions, sleeping potions, truth potions, memory potions, false emotion potions, poisons, antidotes, and every other type and variation of potions imaginable, save most love potions. The last two walls were covered—absolutely covered in books.

A large, intricately carved oak desk was center of the office, matching the cabinets and shelves.

Contrary to the former décor of her predecessor's choice, she had not decorated her office with the intimidation factor in mind.

She leaned against the desk's edge and snapped her fingers loudly as the students settled into chairs.

With a crack, a familiar house elf appeared, with huge green eyes and wearing layers of sweaters and socks.

"Miss Professor Potter!" he squeaked delightedly. "Dobby hopes you is well!"

She laughed lightly. "Of course, Dobby. I hope you are as well. If you weren't too busy, I was hoping you might be able to bring my guests and me some tea and biscuits?"

Dobby's large eyes swiveled to Harry.

"Harry Potter!" he squealed gleefully, "I is hoping you is well?

"Er—I'm fine, actually," he replied awkwardly, "How are you?"

The house elf beamed to her nephew. "I is fine, Harry Potter! I is liking Hogwarts very much!"

"How is Winky, Dobby?" asked Granger quietly.

Dobby's ears drooped a bit. "Winky is still drinking Butterbeer, but Professor Potter has been helping her—she is, she is! Dobby will be back with the Professor's tea and biscuits!"

He disappeared with a crack.

"Dobby has been most complementary about you three, you know," she said with a smile.

The house elf returned swiftly, bobbing his head cheerfully, delivering the food, and disappeared with another loud crack.

Absently levitating a cup of tea to each of them and manually stirring her own, she set the platter of biscuits between them and looked to her nephew.

"So, I suppose you have questions for me, Harry?" she asked, bracing herself for the onslaught.

"Are you really related to me?"

His question burst forth without hesitation, green eyes—so much like her sister in law's, she thought with an ache in her chest—lit with curiosity.

Civia chuckled. "Indeed. I am." She did not miss their sharp intakes of breath, and continued despite them. "For now, call me Civia, please. We are not in class, and I am not your professor at the moment.

"I am—was—your father's sister," she explained, eyes distant as she gazed out the window, "Older by two years."

"But you look nothing alike!" exclaimed her nephew.

The Potions Mistress laughed. "I always said he got the Potter family genes and I got the Black family genes—our mother was a Black, you see. He was tall, athletic, and tan. I have the typical black hair, pale skin, and small stature of the Blacks." She frowned. "The only Potter traits I got were the perennially chaotic hair and ghastly eyesight." As she spoke, Civia flicked away an errant curl from her face and pushed her librarian-esque glasses further up the bridge of her nose.

"We were never much alike," she continued, pausing to sip her tea. "He was popular, handsome, a Quidditch player, and a prankster—and very much a Gryffindor. On the other hand, I was unnoticed, spoke rarely to my classmates, not athletic in the least, unattractive, with the height of a third year and my nose incessantly stuck in a book."

She shook her head, chuckling to herself. "I was too different for your brother. He was a bit arrogant and shallow in his early Hogwarts years, you see. I was too different, too smart, too unpopular, too Ravenclaw." She snorted, but her eyes were sad. "He regretted it later on in life, distancing himself from me."

"You were Sorted into Ravenclaw?" asked Hermione.

Civia nodded. "Indeed. It was torn between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, but decided I was better off in Ravenclaw."

She gave a small laugh. If only they knew what really happened.

"Why did you let Aunt Petunia raise me, then…Civia?" Harry asked, a slightly hurt look on your face.

Her expression softened. "Oh, Harry. I wanted to. Desperately. Albus would not allow me to. I did not share Lily's blood, and could not offer you the blood protection. I was fully able to fight off any Death Eater that came my way—save Voldemort if he dared," she muttered bitterly. "I am a champion dueler. I could best any Death Eater out there…

"But nothing I or anyone else said could change his mind," she said sadly. "He was adamant you were best off not knowing of the magical world or your celebrity status in it until you came to Hogwarts.

"I was heartbroken, meanwhile," Civia said, her soft voice nearly a whisper. "Two of my only three close family members were killed, and the last shipped off to the muggle world, with myself banned from being near him—you.

"I left London, and disappeared, though I never abandoned magic. I learned, and studied, and practiced, and trained, and perfected. I did everything possible to prepare for the day my skills would be needed."

Harry nodded, accepting her explanation, and she could breathe again.

"You knew You-Know—V-Voldemort would come back?" asked Ron, astounded, mouth gaping, revealing a half-chewed biscuit.

She snorted. "Only a fool would think otherwise. But it was not only that which I knew I would be needed for. It was also this. Why Albus asked me to come to Hogwarts."

"Why?" asked Hermione eagerly.

"To protect my only family left, as well as Hogwarts itself and its students," she paused and added, "It was only pure chance that allowed me my preferred job. I could have been the DADA teacher, but Albus decided to make us both happy and give us our preferred jobs."

"So you really are a Potions Master?" asked Harry curiously.

"Mistress," she corrected, with a smile, "and yes. I am only of the small handful of Potions Mistresses of this century. I love potions—always have."

"Why?"

She smiled wider. "There is simply something beautiful about it. The delicate procedure and art of brewing; the multitude of effects…It is and shall always be, with few exceptions, a solitary art. If nothing else, solitude is what I know best," she added softly.

Civia stopped herself as a clock chimed the hour. "I believe dinner should start soon. Now, I have some work to do on a few potions for Poppy, so off you trot—and don't forget whatever homework you have!"

Harry and Ron groaned, while Hermione beamed happily, obviously approving of her friend's aunt.

* * *

 **February 1999**

When Severus departed St. Mungo's, he knew exactly where he was going. From the lobby, he apparated directly to the outer gate of Malfoy Manor, which easily allowed him entrance.

Lucius hadn't even changed his wards to prevent his arrival.

He found the rapist in the drawing room, lounging about while drinking a glass of elf made wine.

"Ah, hello, Severus."

Severus returned it with a Stunner, which Lucius waved away with a lazy wave of his wand.

"Good to see you too, old friend," Lucius drawled.

"How could you, Lucius?" he spat. "You were her friend!"

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Oh please. If she'd just given me the information I'd wanted, I would have left her alone. But she didn't, so I didn't."

"What did you want to know?" he growled, already having a suspicion.

"Where Narcissa is hiding, of course. If she'd just told me, I wouldn't have hurt her, the stupid slut—"

He was cut off by a narrowly diverted _Sectumsempra_.

With that, the duel began in earnest as Lucius rose from the chair. Spells flew, mostly Unforgiveables from Lucius, unsurprisingly.

The Potions Master deflected and dodged like an expert, as only a master dueler could, but he gave as good as he got.

Eventually, with the drapes on fire and the furniture toppled, Severus Stunned his former friend, just as the Aurors burst into the room, having finally broken through the wards.

* * *

When Civia woke again that evening, Narcissa was at her side. The older witch was crying softly, with a handkerchief in hand. "Civia," she said when she noticed the patient was awake. "Civia, I'm so sorry." Her voice was hushed but aggrieved.

"I never meant for him to hurt you," Narcissa apologized. "If I had thought, if I had known—I wouldn't have come to you and Severus at all."

Civia sighed. "I didn't think of it either, Narcissa. Still, I don't regret taking you in. I'd do it again."

"How can you say that?" the mother asked. "How can you possibly say that after what he did to you?"

"Because I know what Lucius is like, and I wouldn't wish him on any woman," she replied. "You didn't ask for that—to be bonded to such a beast."

"You barely know me," Narcissa replied. "You don't even like me."

Civia's brow furrowed. "Why would you say that? I consider us, well, if not friends, then friendly, at least."

"You avoid me actively," Narcissa replied. "Even at Christmas, you avoided Draco and I."

"I—I just thought—" she faltered. "You two and Severus are so close. I just thought…I don't know, I'd give you space. I've never really spent time with you, Narcissa, and I thought…I thought you and Severus might appreciate the privacy."

"Severus and I?" she repeated, bewildered, before the realization hit her. "You thought Severus and I were, potentially, a couple."

Civia nodded slowly, hesitant to admit her anxieties.

The older witch laughed softly. "We're not. Merely close friends. I consider him to be a younger brother, of sorts," Narcissa replied, smiling fondly. "Besides, I don't think I would ever remarry after this. I think I am content to be single. One marriage is all I had in me."

"I understand," Civia nodded. "And I apologize for my assumptions."

"You were worried."

"I—I was just…yes, I suppose I was," she admitted lowly. "I can't lose him, Narcissa. Not even to you. I can't."

Narcissa smiled softly. "I don't think you should worry about that," she replied. "I doubt he could stand losing you either, if I'm honest."

Somehow, it's a comforting thought.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

 **31 October 1996**

Halloween was a terrible affair that year.

Though it was the anniversary of his defeat at the hands of the baby Harry Potter, the Dark Lord seemed eager to reclaim the ancient, hallowed night as his own.

Civia knew, as soon as she arrived, that the night would be one of the worst in her memory.

* * *

She returned to the castle early that morning, in the pre-dawn light, cloaked in her Death Eater robes and covered in blood.

Severus was awake when she entered the sitting room, sitting there going through an ancient text on breaking Dark curses.

He stood when she entered, seeing the look on her face.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing," she snapped, removing her cloak to reveal her bruised and bloody face. He was undeterred. He knew that when she acted like this, something was wrong.

"Are you injured?"

Her response was brusque. "Already healed, this time. I just need a Blood Replenishing Potion."

Quickly, the Defense master offered said potion from the side table and watched as she downed it.

"Civia," Severus said, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Stop Occluding."

She looked up to him and replied in a whisper. "I can't. Not this time. It'll kill me."

"You have to stop Occluding," he repeated. "You know putting off feeling the pain only makes it worse."

Finally, she slumped against him, head bowed, and he maneuvered them to the couch with care.

When she looked up to him, she was in tears.

"What happened?" Severus asked softly.

She had not released her hold on him when she spoke. "They took a muggle family. A mum, a dad, two daughters. The older was about sixteen, the little one couldn't have been seven.

"They made me fuck the father while his wife watched, screaming. Then they raped her, making him watch. Then they raped the elder daughter and tortured the little girl."

"Merlin," he whispered. Sometimes he forgot what it was like to watch such evil.

Other times he couldn't imagine going back.

"They made me kill the little girl first," she whispered. "I tortured her until she was senseless, like the Longbottoms. Then I slit her throat. Then the other daughter. Then the parents.

"I had the _honor_ …the honor of finishing them off, for my work reporting on the Order, and for getting Harry to trust me."

Severus pulled her closer, rubbing her back as she wept, and said nothing.

There was nothing he could say. Not this time.

* * *

 **February 1999**

That night was unpleasant for Civia, who was wracked by nightmares.

She had been visited again by Harry, who had informed her of Severus' assistance in apprehending Lucius.

She'd expected her friend to visit her again after that, but he hadn't, to her disappointment. She sorely wanted to talk to him. Talking with him—hell, just being with him—always helped after particularly bad days.

But he hadn't visited again that day. Nor the next. He didn't come visit her at all after that initial visit.

It hurt, his avoidance of her, in addition to his sheer absence from her life.

She hadn't gone so long without seeing him in years. She had grown used to his presence, dependent upon him in some ways, and she felt his absence keenly.

* * *

After two weeks, she was finally released from St. Mungo's. She'd sent word to Minerva, Narcissa, and Severus the day before, and was only partially disappointed when Minerva showed up to escort her back to Hogwarts.

(She hadn't lingered on the hope that Severus would be there too.)

"You're looking much better, my dear," Minerva greeted her. The Headmistress had visited that second day after she woke up. "Much better."

"I feel it," Civia replied, with a small smile. "And I admit, I am quite ready to be home at Hogwarts."

"We've all missed you, Civia dear," Minerva smiled.

"I rather doubt that," she muttered bitterly.

Minerva paused, stopping Civia in her tracks as they crossed the lobby toward the exit. "We have, and I can't believe you'd doubt that."

"I—it's nothing, never mind," the Potions Mistress sighed. "I just…I haven't seen Severus since I first woke up after the…after the attack."

"Really?" the Transfiguration Mistress's eyebrows rose sharply. "What in the world has gotten into him…"

Civia shook her head. "I wish I knew."

* * *

When she returned to their rooms, she found Narcissa in the sitting room, waiting for her with bloodshot eyes.

"Where is Severus?" she asked softly, determined to face the man before her courage gave out.

Narcissa pointed toward the door to his rooms wordlessly, before going into the library to give her and Severus some privacy.

Hesitantly, she knocked on the door to Severus' bedchambers.

"Come in, Narcissa," she heard through the door.

Slowly, she creaked the door open. "It's me," she said softly.

Severus stilled, in the middle of tying his cravat. "Civia."

"May I…may I come in?" she asked.

"Of course."

She had never been in his bedchambers before—from the amber gold comforter to the deep chestnut brown sheets, she had never seen any of it before.

It was strange to be there, in such an intimate setting, with Severus only partially clothed. Oh, he was overdressed by anyone else's standards, but by his own…he was half nude, with so many layers missing and his crisp white shirt exposed and his cravat half tied, leaving a vast expanse of his neck visible.

Civia forced her eyes to meet his gaze, even as he was frozen in surprise.

She smiled awkwardly, awkward as it never was between them. "How long are you going to avoid me, Severus?"

He flushed slightly around his neck. "I wasn't—" he began to lie, but the lie was so flimsy, he abandoned it quickly. "I'm sorry. I couldn't stand it—I couldn't just sit there beside you—"

"Am I that soiled to you?" she whispered. "That polluted and foul because of that man's attack?"

"What? No," the Potions Master nearly sputtered. "Of course not! How could you possibly imagine I'd think that?"

It was her turn to flush. "What else was I to think?"

His indignant anger faded to guilt at the look on her face. "Civia, I avoided you because I felt _guilty_."

"Why would you feel guilty?" she asked. "You didn't attack me?"

But she realized as soon as the words left her mouth. "You thought I blamed you, because of losing our duel to decide who would act as chaperone."

"…yes," he admitted lowly.

Slowly, she sat beside him and grasped his hands in her own. "We're a right mess, aren't we?"

"I suppose so," Severus agreed. "However…I am sorry, for what it's worth."

"Thank you, but I wish you weren't. The only one I blame is Lucius Malfoy," she replied softly. "I most certainly don't blame you, Severus. In fact, I should be thanking you. I hear you helped arrest him."

He shrugged in false modesty. "I played a small part."

She laughed at the return of his humor, looking back up to him, and realizing how close they were.

Severus seemed to realize it too, and began to pull away, before she caught his cheek in her palm, gently pulling him back to face her.

"Severus?"

"…yes?" he replied after a pause.

She could see his pupils dilate, as his gaze wavered between her eyes and her lips.

"I should very much like to kiss you."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

 **November 1996**

It was well into November when Civia was officially invited to join the Inner Circle of the Order.

She had vaguely been aware of their existence before, knew that they were the most trusted and most powerful members. She was also informed that to be inducted, there had to be a majority vote in her favor.

While she was generally known amongst the Order, she wasn't particularly well liked. They saw her as nothing but a useless Potions Mistress, a cowardly Ravenclaw—and, to top it off, a non-combatant because of her concealed dueling skills.

Moody, for example, had never been fond of her—for the aforementioned reasons, of course. She was a useless coward. Not even a cunning Slytherin whose connections they could exploit. Not even an adequate dueler like the majority of the group—why, she hadn't even responded to the call for help when the Muggle Prime Minister's home was attacked! Hadn't she been knocked out quickly by Bellatrix Lestrange in the Department of Mysteries, too?

Minerva was increasingly fond of her, given her employment at the school, and the two witches had grown close over the past few months of the school year.

Remus was fond, if distant, given Sirius' death. Which was partially her fault, she was sure he thought—even if he'd never admit it.

Kingsley was ambivalent about her. He knew a Potions Mistress had her uses, but didn't see much value in her besides that. After all, they already had one good Potions Master, who had long been trusted before her.

Arthur Weasley was a bit fond of her, if vaguely so. His wife quite liked her well enough, but he didn't know her very well at all.

And Albus, of course, knew all.

But even if the Inner Circle was fond of her, that didn't mean they would see her as valuable or useful—or even worthy of induction.

So Severus took it into his hands to ensure her acceptance into the Inner Circle.

When her name came up in the meeting, only one meeting after Filius himself had been inducted, Severus snorted.

"Got something to say, Snape?" Moody asked.

"Well we can't seriously be considering inducting her into the Inner Circle," he sneered. "She's superfluous at best, useless at worst."

"Severus!" Minerva exclaimed. "I thought you and she were—well, I thought you were friends!"

"I suppose, friends we may be," he acknowledged, "But you can't possibly think she would be of real use to the Inner Circle! She's a jumped up little Ravenclaw who has a modest talent at Potions. What are the strategic advantages to inducting her? None!"

"Now, there, Severus," Albus interjected calmly. "Just because you quarreled with her earlier—"

"I expect better of you, Severus!" Minerva exclaimed. "To lash out at a friend behind her back, just because of a little fight is beneath you."

"Fight or no, she isn't useless," Remus argued. "I find her to be a highly insightful woman. Sure, she might not be the best dueler, but she's brilliant at planning and researching."

"We don't have enough of those talents in the Order as it is," Kingsley murmured. "I think she could be a useful addition to the Inner Circle."

Moody hummed. "I suppose research and spell development are her strong points, as well as potions. Could balance out our weaknesses."

"Speak for yourself," Severus sneered, but there was no bite to his words. He seemed to recognize a lost battle when he saw one.

* * *

Later, she snorted when he told her.

"Really? And they bought that?" she laughed. "Just because we 'quarreled'?"

Severus smirked. "I never said they were the brightest group."

* * *

 **February and March 1999**

"I should very much like to kiss you."

He stilled at her words, and pulled away from the hand on his cheek. "You don't mean that," he replied coolly.

"Don't I?" she snapped, blushing and wounded at his rejection.

"No," he shot back, standing to face her. "You don't. You've been through a traumatic event and I—I can't take advantage of that."

Her heart softened at that. Noble Severus, always trying to do right by her.

"I've wanted to kiss you for months, Severus," she murmured softly. "But I was too afraid of risking our friendship."

"Why now?" he asked quietly. "Of all times, shouldn't you want space—shouldn't you avoid physical contact with me, even if you don't blame me?"

"Because I've been reminded. Reminded of how short life is and how quickly opportunities can be stolen from us. And I'd never forgive myself if I never tried. I—I care too much for you to do that."

Slowly, he sat down beside her once more. "I think you're the only one who has ever truly cared for me. Even—even Lily. She didn't really care, not in the end."

Civia grabbed his hand gently, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I think," he began slowly, "I think…I started fighting in the war for her, but in the end, I was fighting for you. For you to be spared the horrors you faced so often. For you to have a real home, safe and sound. For you to reconnect with your remaining family. For you to be happy."

For a moment, she was incapable of speech.

"Severus?"

"Yes?" he asked.

Civia smiled. "If you don't kiss me now, I'm afraid I'll be rather cross with you."

"We wouldn't want that, would we?" he murmured, a small smile curling his lips.

She grinned, rolled her eyes, and kissed him.

In her life, Civia Potter had kissed many men. Some for manipulation. Some for lust. Some for a greater purpose.

None of those kisses really counted. Not really. They didn't matter, not to her.

As far as she was concerned, this— _this_ was her first kiss: Severus cradling her cheek in his hands; Severus, holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world; Severus, pressing his lips to hers and catching her mouth, catching her heart.

When their lips parted, their foreheads came to rest against each other, sharing a moment of simply existing together as they breathed together and held each other.

She smiled, so widely it nearly hurt. "I'm afraid once wasn't sufficient, Professor Snape. Repeat performances are required for the experiment."

"Well, if it's for an experiment," he murmured, and captured her lips once more.

After a few minutes of languid kissing, the two parted again, still clutching on to each other as they sat upon the Defense professor's bed.

She was winded and struggled to catch her breath when she spoke. "Where does this leave us? What are we?"

"Well, I beg of you not to refer to me as your boyfriend," he muttered with an impish smirk. "I believe an adequate term would be partners?"

Civia smiled. "I think I quite like the sound of that."

* * *

Though things became easier after that, with Severus back at her side (closer than ever), things were not magically fixed.

She still had nightmares and panic attacks, though they often were calmed by waking Severus up so he could calm her.

It took about two weeks for him to learn how to properly calm her—what to do, what to say—but still, in the meantime, he tried and he learned.

Eventually, they figured it out, together.

* * *

After a couple weeks of convalescence, Civia was prepared to return to teaching. It had been nearly a month since the attack, though it didn't feel that long at all.

When she finally did show up in the Great Hall one Monday morning, she was greeted by applause and cheers. It had grown silent when people saw her entering for the first time in a month, as they noticed her pristine robes and her pale face.

It started out at the Slytherin table, of all places, when Draco had stood and began clapping with a small smile on his face. Beside him, his girlfriend Astoria Greengrass joined him and began applauding too. Then it spread across the hall in waves, and she distinctly heard several whoops and cheers with her name from the Gryffindor table.

She had laughed in surprise and continued to the Head Table with a smile on her face and a blush in her cheeks.

* * *

When she arrived in her classroom, she was surprised to find a small card on her desk—a brief note from a first year Hufflepuff wishing her well, wishing her a speedy recovery.

She had hurriedly brushed the tears from her eyes before the students began to enter the classroom.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

 **June 30, 1997**

When Granger and Lovegood came running into her office, she knew that tonight was the night.

She knew in her bones.

She sent a Patronus to Severus, and swept out of her office, running toward the Astronomy Tower. The fighting was in full swing around the staircase, but she slipped through them all and flew up the stairs.

Draco, Amycus, Alecto, Fenrir, and Yaxley were already there, facing a cornered and wandless Albus.

Alecto was speaking. "…or stand aside so one of us—"

She burst through the doors, looking calm and collected, as if nothing were wrong in the world at all. All six heads turned to face her as she entered.

"We've got a problem, Civia," Amycus muttered. "The boy doesn't seem able—"

The lumpy man was interrupted by a weak plea.

"Civia…"

She couldn't…but this was the part she had to play, put in motion by the very man apparently pleading before her now.

"Albus," she purred, one hand lazily holding her wand, the other resting upon her hip. "Been a while, hasn't it?"

"After all this time?" he murmured weakly, a grotesque parody of a former conversation.

Her lip curled up in a sneer. "Always."

She raised her wand, instincts and mind screaming against her actions.

"Get on with it, enough gloating!" growled Greyback, stepping closer and grabbing her. With a snarl, she turned her wand on him and blasted him back.

"No!" she spat. "This is mine."

She thought of all he had made her do, all she had been forced to live with. Fucking Death Eaters, killing innocent muggles, even killing children. Torturing innocents and watching, standing nearby, as horrors were committed, unable to stop.

She thought of all that hate that boiled in her blood sometimes, all the resentment and disgust and horror and rage.

She thought of all she had suffered—all Severus had suffered.

She thought of all that she could prevent by cementing her place in the Death Eaters' ranks, all by one simple spell.

She knew the spell. She knew it. And she knew it had to be done.

But she knew all she would lose with it. Severus would forever think of this night when they were together, he would always know her as the woman who was forced to murder their friend. Harry would think her a traitor, a villain. Her friends, the teachers and staff, they'd all hate her, try to kill her.

It had to be done.

" _Avada Kedavra_ ," she shouted.

Albus fell…

She did not watch as his frail body tumbled over the battlements and into the air, but she knew it was happening all the same.

She turned back to the other Death Eaters and Draco, who gaped in utter shock.

"Let's go!" she snapped, seizing Draco by the scruff and shoving him towards the stairs. Like a spell was broken, they all snapped into action, hurrying down the stairs.

Downstairs, the battle was still ongoing.

" _It's over, time to go!_ " she screamed, leading the charge down the corridor, towards the Entrance Hall. She blocked a _Sectumsempra_ from Severus as she went, and extinguished a wave of flames from Minerva before it could reach Draco.

It was outside the castle when Harry caught up to them, screaming. "Civia! He trusted you!

" _Impedimenta!_ " he cried, and both Carrows fell with identical squeals, tripping over each other.

As she turned back to face their pursuer, Rowle set Hagrid's hut aflame with a shouted spell.

" _Stupefy!_ "

She blocked with curse with a lazy wave of her wand.

Draco was lingering beside her, unsure. "Run, Draco!" she ordered, shoving him toward the gates.

" _Cruc—_ "

Again, she parried the curse, knocking her nephew off his feet, sending him skidding across the damp lawn.

He tried again at the Cruciatus, but was only knocked back on his bum once more.

"No Unforgiveables from you, Harry!" she snapped. "You haven't the nerve or ability—"

Harry roared as he charged her again. " _Incarc—_ "

She waved the spell away with her wand-free hand.

"Fight back!" Harry screamed. "Fight back, you coward!"

She laughed coldly. "Coward, you call me?" she sneered. "Your father would never come after me unless it was four against one! What would you call him, I wonder?"

" _Stupe—_ "

" _NO!_ " she screeched, sending him flying backward once more. "You'll never win unless you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Harry!"

She turned to Rowle. "Now come!" she snapped. "It's time to go before the Ministry gets here—"

But as Harry attempted another jinx, Rowle jumped in with the Cruciatus upon her nephew.

" _Enough!_ " she spat. "Potter belongs to the Dark Lord, or have you forgotten? Go, you idiot!"

Rowle snarled wordlessly at her, but obeyed.

Harry was upon them once more, screaming curses, until she sent him yet again onto his back, hitting the ground hard, disarmed.

She gazed down upon him coldly.

"Kill me then," he panted, lips curled back in Snape-worthy snarl. "Kill me—like you killed him, you coward!"

Again, she laughed. "A coward am I, my dear nephew?" she asked, cold and detached as the crescent moon above in the sky.

"You're lucky the Dark Lord wants to finish you himself, Harry," she murmured, _tsk_ -ing as he reached for his wand, which she kicked out of reach.

"Good luck, dear boy," she sneered down to him when he snarled up at her wordlessly. "You'll need it."

With that, she turned and was gone.

* * *

 **March 1999**

February faded into March, and slowly, Civia began to forget about the attack.

It was, of course, featured in nightmares, but she found that sleeping in Severus' bed with him often warded them away.

That didn't mean they were always prevented, merely that his presence was her good luck charm, her guardian—her Patronus, almost, guarding her against the dark and foul.

In addition, sometimes she'd wake up from vivid nightmares and run to the loo to vomit for the dreams were so painful. Those nights and mornings, Severus would follow her and without complaint hold her bush of curls away from her face, offering her a glass of water when she was finished.

The mood swings were normal, or so they read.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, as they learned, was unpleasant in the extreme, even if hers was a fairly mild case.

Still, they persevered.

Eventually, with Lucius now locked away in Azkaban for life, Narcissa was able to return to the Manor and leave the happy couple to themselves, with her blessing.

(The less said about that evening when she'd walked in on a passionate snog session, the better.)

* * *

"Should we tell Minerva?" Civia asked one evening.

"Hmm? Tell her what?" he said, looking up from his research notes.

The Potions Mistress rolled her eyes. "About us."

"I don't see why not," he replied with an elegant shrug. "There are no rules against two teachers being involved, I checked. We won't be in trouble. There's no reason to hide it from her."

"I thought you'd want to keep it a secret?" she asked, curious.

He snorted. "The war's over, why keep happy secrets like that to ourselves? Minerva and the staff would be happy for us."

"Still, I thought you would prefer to keep it quiet."

"Keep quiet that I've caught one of the brightest, loveliest, most powerful witches in England?" he snorted. "Why? You act as if I'd be ashamed."

She smiled, scooted closer to him on the couch, and kissed him.

He was quick to move his notebook from his lap, without even releasing her lips in the process, she noticed.

While he might not have had many opportunities in the past to practice kissing, he was—as ever—a quick study and had learned very swiftly how to kiss her _just_ so, in such a way that had her trembling against him, clutching to his frock coat as she moaned.

Despite their passion, he moved slowly, probably afraid of moving too fast and triggering her anxiety, but that wasn't an issue for Civia. She knew the difference between Severus and Lucius, thank you very much.

As it was, she was quite tired of being treated like the finest, most delicate china.

So Civia found herself pulling him closer and eventually climbing into his lap, before they slid sideways, laying down on the couch, her resting on top of his lean frame.

"Civia," he murmured between kisses, as her mouth slowly migrated from his lips to his chin and neck. "You need to stop."

"Why?" she demanded breathily. "I don't want to."

He huffed out a laugh. "Because someone is knocking on the door."

So it was.

Reluctantly, she pulled away and sat upright, fixing her disheveled hair before going to answer the door.

"Draco?" she asked. "Is something wrong? Is it Narcissa?"

"No—no, nothing's wrong, Professor. I was just…I just wanted to talk to you, if you don't mind."

Her brow furrowed. "Of course not. Come in. Severus and I were just doing some research."

The student noticed her swollen lips and still messy hair, and smirked. "Research, right."

"Something to say?" she asked sharply.

"Nothing, Professor!" he replied immediately. "Sorry."

"Please, sit," she motioned to an armchair. "Tea?"

He shook his head. "No thank you, Professor."

Severus cleared his throat as he stood. "I'll be in the library if you need me," he murmured quietly to Civia. Draco did not miss the affectionate hand on her shoulder as he spoke.

As the door shut behind him, Civia turned back to the student. "What is it, Draco? Is everything alright?"

"I—yes," he began awkwardly. "I just…wanted to apologize. For what my father did. I can't—I can't explain how sorry I am that it happened."

Her stern gaze softened. "It isn't your fault, Draco, but thank you. I appreciate it. But I'd appreciate it if everyone would treat me normally, if you can spread the word. I'm not going to dissolve into tears at the drop of a hat."

He laughed. "Right. Will do."

"Is that it, Draco?" she asked curiously. "You needn't have bothered coming all this way to see me just for that…"

"No, that's, that's not it," he replied, somewhat nervous to Civia's eye. "I was wondering…that is, the end of the semester is approaching and I'll be graduating soon, and I've been thinking about what I want to do afterwards."

She suppressed a smile, guessing his intentions.

"And I was rather thinking…that is, I was hoping you'd consider taking me on as an apprentice."

The Potions Mistress smiled. "Well, I'd be honored, my boy. You'll just need to do well on your final exam and then we can begin the process."

Draco stared at her uncertainly. "That's it?"

"That's it."

He smiled slightly. "Thanks, Professor. I'll let you get back to your…research, now."


End file.
